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Tinh Vệ - Rimekii Remix

케이월러브119

An urgent, epic dance-anthe m that fuses trance euphoria with hip‑hop accusation to confront political inaction on climate change. The song moves between whispered prophecy, spoken-word indictment, rap‑like verses and soaring, hymnlike choruses. Lyrically it contrasts warm, polished promises with the cold reality of collapsing seas, burning skies and traded futures. Repeated refrains — “We cry for reason, they sell us time” — become both lament and call to action, pushing the track from intimate grief to stadium-scale mobilization. The closing plea demands resistance: do not let the market auction the seasons.

Lyrics — Pulse of the broken World

We were promised air, a softer sky, a future folded neat and dry.  
We were told to wait.

I watched the clocks rewrite their face, statements sold with velvet grace,  
Maps went warm, the edges bled; papers promised what they read.  
Hands that signed kept pockets deep, counting margins while coasts weep,  
They trade our seasons in their blinds, auction futures, auction minds.

How many summers must we give before the rivers learn to live?  
How many winters stacked like stone before the ice forgets its home?  
You hold the keys and leave them cold, write laws in gold, then watch them fold.

We cry for reason, they sell us time,  
We cry for seasons, they sell us lies.  
When the sky is burning while the money thrives,  
Who will stand when the silence cries?  
We cry for reason.

Sell us time, sell us time, sell us time.

Check the ledger: profit first, planet later in a paper hearse,  
Greenwashed banners, glossy smiles, futures priced in quarterly files.  
They meet in rooms with blinds pulled tight, measure dawn by fiscal light,  
Say "transition" in a softer tone, then water down the change they've sown.

Listen — rivers memorize the names of what we let go down.  
Listen — forests keep the outlines of each promise burned to ground.  
There is no auditor for wind; no balance sheet for what we’ve sinned.

We are told to wait, to trust the plan, to let the market heal the land.  
We hold our breath, we hold the scale; the hourglass slips grain by grain.

We cry for reason, they sell us time,  
We cry for seasons, they sell us lies.  
When the sky is burning while the money thrives,  
Who will stand when the silence cries?  
We cry — we run out of time.

Wake, wake, wake — break the chain.

Remember markets do not breathe, they cannot mend our streaming seas,  
Remember names the tides recall, the children who will chart the fall.  
This is not a scoreboard game; it's the weather writing our names.

We cry for reason, they sell us time,  
We cry for seasons, they sell us lies.  
When the sky is burning and the money thrives,  
Rise, stand, speak when the silence cries.  
Stand — do not sell your seasons.

We were promised air — we were promised air — we were promised air...  
We were told to wait.

© 2025 Martin Oliver Beinersdorf. All rights reserved.  
Lyrics and concept by Martin Oliver Beinersdorf. Do not reproduce, distribute, or adapt without explicit permission.

Pulse of the broken World

Mobin Master - Show Me Love (DJ FLAKO Bootleg) [FREE DOWNLOAD]

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Tinh Vệ - Rimekii Remix

Yuki