GREATWYRM (Lyrics by me, music by Suno)
Magic is real… and the world remembers.
Magic is real, it bleeds through the stone
Rivers of power under flesh and bone
Cut out the dragons, the world goes numb
Like reefs turned white, like forests gone
They don’t decay, they don’t grow old
They molt into something ancient and cold
Long sleep, slow change, the body gives way
To living storms of arcane sway
Breath like a signature, proof in the flame
Not animals, not gods, not bound by the same
They are the pressure in the arcane deep
Where the Weave itself goes to breathe and sleep
Greatwyrms rise — anchors of the Weave
Mountains that bend how the tides believe
Hoard and heart in a single design
Living ley-lines of space and time
Greatwyrms rise — demigods in scale
When dragons become the magic they sail
Kill the beast and the world still bleeds
Shockwaves tearing through what magic needs
Sympathetic chains across every world
Echo to echo, scale to scale curled
Artifacts hum like tuned guitar strings
Same vibration in a thousand things
Other skies, other bones, same soul refracted
Multiversal mirrors magically stacked
This is how dragons learn to see
Not planes to walk, but what they already be
Not portals and circles, not chalk and knives
But resonance linking a thousand lives
Where one ascends, the rest feel the call
And the oldest learn how to harvest them all
Greatwyrms rise — anchors of the Weave
Storms with a will, with a memory
Not just power, not just age
But accumulated reality and rage
Greatwyrms rise — living domains
Weather bends to their hidden veins
Mountains move when they draw breath
The arcane ecology of godhood and death
Across the realms the hunt goes on
Kill your echoes or you’re already gone
Elemental hearts in a predatory race
Until only one wears every face
Hoard sustains them, nodes of control
Magic reservoirs bound to the soul
Strike them down, watch them ignite
They don’t die — they wake up the fight
No food.
No sleep.
No mortal law.
Just concentrated apocalypse given thought.
Not conquest — convergence, willing and clean
Minds interwoven across what’s been
Granted the path by the Platinum Throne
To become more than flesh alone
They don’t rule by terror or falling skies
But by cutting wars off before they rise
Negotiation backed by planetary scale
Storms held silent by a single exhale
Greatwyrms rise — anchors of the Weave
Architects of what worlds are allowed to be
They don’t charge the gate, they move the field
Until the future itself is sealed
Greatwyrms rise — watchers between
Politics, pantheons, and planar schemes
Always ahead, never surprised
Because they’re running on more than eyes
Crystal minds and fractured light
Telekinetic gravity made insight
They don’t care if the small folk burn
Insects beneath a collapsing firmament
Crushing force in a thought made wave
Armies lifted, cities displaced
Not gods, not beasts, not truly sane
But consciousness scaled to continental brains
Kill a dragon and the weather breaks
Ley-lines stutter, ecosystems shake
Dead zones bloom where hoards once lay
Because the Weave doesn’t shift away
It remembers
It scars
It takes its time
Iron kings beneath the world’s skin
Planar breeds in screaming wind
Fey-born echoes fed by tale
Where legend itself becomes the scale
Different paths to the endless form
Some through slaughter, some through storm
Some through story, some through law
But all become more than they ever were
Greatwyrms rise — anchors of the Weave
Living disasters ecosystems need
Dragons when age finally gives way
To infrastructure of the arcane age
Greatwyrms rise — not end, but shift
Where biology finally lets magic live
Not kings of gold, not beasts of flame
But the bones of the world remembering its name
When the last greatwyrm moves…
the world moves with it.
