Derived from Matrix

You heard someone singing a song and followed here. Could they be born from this sea of solitude?

Stranded on a shore of despair, you pass on the fragile hope to the next cycle before losing consciousness.

You gaze at the distant lights beyond, hoping to arrive there the next time.

The light that parts the sea of emptiness will reach another shore. Listen carefully, echo.

Sweet fruits do not lead to the real Eden. Hope is a fantasy that leeches on to reality.

She patrols at night before dawn and indulges herself in the carefree wonderland.

Through the night and the shadow, a new world will be born, and the song of tomorrow will be played.