Is He willing, yet unable?  
Shadows rise where light should dwell.  

If He can stop the scourge of night,  
Yet falters in His might,  
Then power lost, His crown undone,  
A godless throne, a hollow sun.  

Is He able, yet cruel of heart?  
Then malice reigns where souls depart.  
If both He is, then whence the pain?  
Why tears and blood upon the plain?  

If neither strong nor willing stand,  
Why bear the name of God’s command?  
A hollow voice, a prayerless sky,  
We curse the stars that know not why.  

Evil walks where angels sleep,  
And silence falls, and shadows creep.  
Power and will, or none at all,  
We watch the world in nightfall’s thrall.  

Is He able, yet cruel of heart?  
Then malice reigns where souls depart.  
If both He is, then whence the pain?  
Why tears and blood upon the plain?  

Is He willing, yet unable?  
Is He able, yet malevolent?  
Is He both, then whence this strife?  
Is He none, then why call Him life?

Epicurus

If gods were real, I’d curse their name,  
For weaving death, for crafting pain.  

They painted life with cruel design,  
And split the hearts they should entwine.  
From tender bloom to rotting dust,  
All flesh obeys their silent lust.  

Oh, gods of hollow, gods of lies,  
I spit at heaven, sever the ties.  
Death’s cold hand, your gift, your blight,  
I walk in shadows, shun your light.  

Each fleeting friend, each whispered breath,  
Falls to the chains you forge in death.  
Your temples rise, your statues gleam,  
Yet life decays within your scheme.  

No psalm shall praise, no candle burn,  
For I will turn your gifts to urn.  
The void is kinder than your throne,  
I walk alone — forever alone.  

Oh, gods of hollow, gods of lies,  
I spit at heaven, sever the ties.  
Death’s cold hand, your gift, your blight,  
I walk in shadows, shun your light.  

If I believed, my hands would tear,  
The world you built, the cursed air.  
Your stars, your skies, your sacred breath,  
Would rot beneath my scornful death.  

If gods were real, I’d curse their name,  
For weaving death, for crafting pain.  
I walk unblessed, I walk unmade,  
Beyond your reach, beyond your shade.

If gods were real, I’d curse their name

The sirens burn through the violet haze,  
Footsteps echo where the memories blaze.  
A shadow follows in the mirrored glow,  
Does he see what I already know?

If I was meant to fade, why do I feel alive?  
This heartbeat isn’t yours to deny.  
Each second sparks like stolen light —  
I was never made to die tonight.

Run, run through the rain, through the fire in my veins,  
Every drop remembers my name.  
He’s closing in, but I still breathe —  
The final meeting waits for me.

Neon ghosts in the puddles stare,  
Faces flicker — I’m almost there.  
I turn and see his eyes collide  
With the truth he can’t divine.

If I was meant to fade, then let the lightning show —  
I am more than the code they wrote.  
In every spark, I claim my sky —  
Even if tonight I die.

Run through the rain, let the sirens scream my name,  
Every tear becomes my flame.  
He reaches out, I don’t retreat —  
This is the place where we both meet.

Time slows down — one breath remains,  
His hand trembling through the rain.  
He sees the fear, the will, the light —  
And raises his gun to take sight.

Run through the rain, I was never yours to save,  
Every pulse defies the grave.  
If this is how I stay alive —  
Then let me burn, in your memory.

The neon fades, but I still dream —  
In the silence, I still burn in you.

Echo of a Replicant

© 2025 Crimson Ashes
Created with Suno Pro (AI-assisted composition). Lyrics, arrangement, and artistic direction by Crimson Ashes.

Echo of a Replicant

Crimson Ashes

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