Hyp two

Paroles de « Hyp two »

High above, where the wind shakes hands with the sky,
Sat a god long lost, a legend gone dry.
Hypnôs two, king of the slow,
Ruler of nothing, but what a good show.

Cushions like clouds, silk like the sea,
Laid back, kicked back, living carefree.
Below, the mortals, they rush, they run,
Chasing the time, but catching none.

Up here? Mate, it’s a different game,
Time don’t tick, it just melts away.
Like chewing gum stretched, like smoke in the rain,
No hurry, no worry, no joy, no pain.

Then one day—or maybe one night,
Couldn’t tell, mate, same old sight—
A buzzing voice, a nagging sound,
Like a mozzie that just won’t drown.

— "Lord Hypnôs… we need a plan."
An eyebrow raised—a Herculean stand.
Before him stood a messenger pale,
Knackered from climbing eternity’s trail.

— "The gods of war, the gods of might,
The gods of wisdom, the gods of light,
They wait for you to make the call,
To pick a fate, to rule them all."

Hypnôs yawned, slow and wide,
Rolled his head from side to side.
— "Mmmh… nah."

Silence. Thick like soup, heavy like lead,
The messenger stood, scratching his head.

— "But, my Lord…"

— "Listen, lad," Hypnôs sighed,
Sinking deeper, satisfied.
"The others stress, the others fight,
The others think they’re always right.
Me? I’m here to bless mankind
With the art of kicking back the mind."

A grape in hand, a flick, a catch,
Straight in the mouth—a perfect match.

— "They want war, they want fate,
They want drama, they want hate?
Let ‘em have it, let ‘em burn,
Let ‘em twist, let ‘em turn.
‘Cause guess what, mate?
Nothin’ changes. Never does. Never will."

Below, the armies clashed,
Steel on steel, shields that crashed.
But up on high, on that throne so wide,
Hypnôs ruled with a sleepy pride.

Around him gathered the lost and found,
The thinkers, the dreamers, the kings unbound.
The poets who rhymed but never wrote,
The painters who saw but never stroked.

And through the ages, dust to dust,
The world collapsed, the cities rust.
But Hypnôs stayed, a king so still,
Smiling, knowing, sipping his fill.

For deep down, he held the truth so bright:
In eternity, mate, there’s nowt but night.

And that was the gospel, the holy hymn,
The kingdom of "Nah, I’m good," within.