Version
[Verse 1]
I dropped into the silence, into nothing thick as tar,
Where a figure sat and waited on a throne that wasn’t there.
I stepped up to the shadow, praying it could tell me where I’d gone—
Then it turned its face toward mine, and every boundary came undone.
[Pre-Chorus]
My eyes, my scars, my crooked grin—
A mirrored ghost in borrowed skin.
Two versions drifting helpless under cold electric stars,
Just me… and me… and all our hidden wars.
[Chorus]
Round world, flat world—none of it is real.
Horizon too straight for the truth we’re supposed to feel.
Time melts, floors split, futures open like a wound—
Just me and my reflection in an ever-closing room.
Not all truths are given, not all lies are told…
Some horizons stay too straight to fit the stories we were sold.
[Verse 2]
We argued on a razor’s edge where sound could never reach.
I said the world was spinning—some vast, unseen machine.
But Other-Me just pointed to the darkness without end:
“That line don’t bend. There’s only straight. There’s only end.”
[Pre-Chorus]
He smiled like he’d already slipped beyond the final seam,
While hours liquefied and poured into a stranger’s memory.
Space peeled apart—floor to ceiling, bone to breath—
Revealing all the secrets in the architecture of death.
[Chorus]
Round world, flat world—none of it is real.
Horizon too straight for the truth we’re supposed to feel.
Time melts, floors split, futures open like a wound—
Just me and my reflection in an ever-closing room.
Not all truths are given, not all lies are told…
Some horizons stay too straight to fit the stories we were sold.
[Bridge]
I saw the veins in the rafters, the rot beneath the wood,
The ghosts behind the doorframe saying more than they ever should.
The present cracked in fragments; the past bled through the seams—
And tomorrow came to find me in the ruins of a dream.
[Breakdown — Spoken / Half-sung]
“No spinning, no orbit, no sky you’ll ever flee…
Just one eternal chamber. Just this room. Just you and me.”
[Final Chorus]
Round world, flat world—nothing left to feel.
Horizon too straight for the lies they call real.
Morning ripped me back but the dream still holds—
A whisper in the dark with a truth I can’t control.
Not all truths are given. Not all lies are told.
Some horizons stay too straight…
To fit the stories we were sold.
