በቀኑ ይፈርዳችኋልና ጌታ እንደገና ይነሣል ፣ በአፈር ውስጥ ይንከባለልዎታል

Описание: An AI musical performance of original lyrics by Martin Poole

The Lord will rise again, for He will judge you on the day He will roll you in the dust.

i.
I hear the world breathe
through cracked porcelain skies,
a hum of flesh becoming echo,
echo becoming thread,
thread becoming thought.

A pulse crawls through the floorboards—
metallic,
unfinished,
almost human.

ii.
Gravity tilts,
spills its pockets,
scatters moments like bolts on concrete.
A memory tries to stand,
collapses,
rises again in static.

Somewhere,
a voice unfolds in reverse—
syllables blooming like rust in water.

iii.
I taste the future on the back of my teeth:
copper,
smoke,
and a faint vibration
like wings learning their weight.

The ground beneath me shifts,
whispering that nothing stays buried,
not even the parts we try to kill gently.

iv.
(whisper-turn-scream-turn-silence)

We resurrect ourselves by accident,
every lie we shed
becoming a new limb,
every truth we swallow
becoming a new gear.

And still—
something rises in the dust,
something binding light to bone,
something wearing my face
but walking more boldly.

v.
The world spins a little too fast,
as if time slipped on its own shadow.
I hold the moment by the throat,
feel it tremble,
feel it choose
to live.

closer:
We are all waiting for our own return,
some holy,
some broken,
all unfinished.

And in the dust,
in the quiet,
in the machinery of becoming—

we rise.