Whispers of the Unread

(Verse 1)

Dust motes dance in sunlit rays,

Across a thousand unread pages.

Spine to spine, a silent maze,

A scholar's dreams, in shadowed stages.

Umberto's stacks, a towering height,

Not knowledge claimed, but knowledge sought.

An anti-library, bathed in light,

A testament to what is thought.

(Guitar Solo 1 - A melancholic, reflective solo, emphasizing the vastness and mystery of the unread books)

(Verse 2)

Each volume holds a whispered plea,

A universe of words untold.

A tapestry of mystery,

A story waiting to unfold.

They mock my pride, my learned air,

A constant hum of what I lack.

My ignorance, laid bare, laid bare,

Reflected in each dusty stack.

(Chorus)

The anti-library, a humbling sight,

A map of dreams, both dark and bright.

A constant quest, a boundless sea,

Of knowledge gained, and yet to be.

(Verse 3)

Not trophies won, but paths untrod,

A compass pointing to the unknown.

A conversation with the God

Of endless learning, overthrown.

My aspirations, neatly bound,

In silent rows, a hopeful plea.

On fertile ground, ideas abound,

A fertile field for you and me.

(Guitar Solo 2 - A more hopeful and uplifting solo, suggesting the potential for growth and discovery within the anti-library)

(Chorus)

The anti-library, a humbling sight,

A map of dreams, both dark and bright.

A constant quest, a boundless sea,

Of knowledge gained, and yet to be.

(Outro)

Unread books, a silent guide,

To endless learning, deep inside.

The anti-library, forever wide.

The anti-library, forever wide.