Uploaded April 2026 | Updated September 2026, 2 weeks ago
Russian Lyrics by: @MonCaos
English Lyrics by: Zhuravliov
Music and Vocals by: SUNO.ai
Context:
[Intro - Spoken]
The galaxy waits with a breath held in awe,
As whispers of fate fill the infinite space.
Sly Journo prepares, with no moment to pause,
To capture each shift in this high-stakes race.
[Verse]
Fields lie drenched in the shadow of death’s domination,
Demeter’s great leader no longer responds.
Empty echoes of battles, devoid of foundation,
Claim the leader has severed life’s fragile bonds.
A correction! The latest reports bring unveiling:
The Committee assumes the control of the fleet.
All the admirals gave their commands without failing—
Move the forces to planets where safety may meet.
Rumors spread as conclusions are fought for and wrested:
The Committee seeks terms to establish a truce.
Though their offer is sealed, it is firmly suggested
That their fleet cannot linger; resistance is loose.
Breaking news! It's a shock! No, it’s worse—a disaster!
Declaration from science’s throne's debuts!
Through the frost of the void comes a signal far faster,
Reaching out from the silence of distant abodes.
Now we’re told with breath held for the tale’s confirmation:
That the greatest of minds in assembly agree,
Viewing all of existence in grim contemplation,
Propose paths for the cosmos, where none yet could see.
Breaking news! Hear the cries! Oh, this cannot be real!
The Supreme Council’s verdict is bound to astound:
Showing mercy divine, they repeal, they appeal—
The grand program of panspermia—they shut it down!
And the colonies built by synthetic creations,
Which had pushed back the cosmos’s limiting edge,
Now are granted a gift of self-determination,
To be ruled by an offer, another's new pledge.
Neighbor nations arise, for the moment is fleeting;
Diplomats will descend and deliver their bids.
Who shall claim these new vassals? The wise shall be meeting,
As the council determines just whose rule permits.
Wait a moment! What chaos is bred in succession?
Will the leaders stand down from this war, hand in hand?
Or like beasts, will they fight in a cruel, grim procession,
Trading lives as the galaxy burns where they stand?
How many wars shall ignite with the spoils left open?
How much tension shall boil till its breaking is loud?
When the Citadel’s schemes fall apart, left unspoken,
Will the cosmos descend to a fate darkly shrouded?
Analysts claim there's a growing opinion,
That rejecting panspermia's a cunning disguise.
The experts are certain, with firm resolution,
That a devious plan hides in scientific lies.
Breaking news now! An urgent and violent upheaval!
Demeter’s fleet crushed on a far, distant world.
Ten corvettes are lost; now it’s calm, no retrieval—
All the ships obliterated, no survivors, no pearl.
Only Fungians’ squad and Princess Oxanna
Stood united as allies to enter the fray.
But the council announced an intent to surrender.
All the questions are silenced, their answers betray.
It’s a lightning bolt! Thunder has shattered the skyline!
Could this be real? Let’s sit, if we stand in the storm.
For some, it’s the ghost of a victory, fragile,
For others—a hope that brings warmth to the forlorn.
And now, it is said—confirmation is given!
That the Scientific Board has resigned in disgrace.
Some members withdrew to a planetary haven—
They retired, now vanished, no longer in place.
A new council begins, with a hand on the rudder,
Now empowered to govern, and lead from today.
It will handle the wars, both in shadow and thunder,
Take command of the fleet, and decide who will stay.
Sweeping changes erupt in the Technocrat Sector!
Vassals granted the choice: break away, or remain.
Independence or contracts, they each choose their vector,
But no chains now restrict them—they’re freed from the strain.
It’s a lightning bolt! Thunder has shattered the skyline!
Could this be real? Let’s sit, if we stand in the storm.
For some, it’s the ghost of a victory, fragile,
For others—a hope that brings warmth to the forlorn.
What the empires will say isn’t yet on the table.
Can we measure the end of a conflict this way?
And how long until warlords with kingdoms unstable,
See their games fading fast, like a relic in clay?
We’ll continue to track how the story keeps turning,
Though our heads spin from headlines and news we absorb.
Keeping you in the loop of each fight and returning,
Every conquest and tale of the stars we explore.
Russian Lyrics by: @MonCaos
English Lyrics by: Zhuravliov
Music and Vocals by: SUNO.ai
Context:
[Intro - Spoken]
The galaxy waits with a breath held in awe,
As whispers of fate fill the infinite space.
Sly Journo prepares, with no moment to pause,
To capture each shift in this high-stakes race.
[Verse]
Fields lie drenched in the shadow of death’s domination,
Demeter’s great leader no longer responds.
Empty echoes of battles, devoid of foundation,
Claim the leader has severed life’s fragile bonds.
A correction! The latest reports bring unveiling:
The Committee assumes the control of the fleet.
All the admirals gave their commands without failing—
Move the forces to planets where safety may meet.
Rumors spread as conclusions are fought for and wrested:
The Committee seeks terms to establish a truce.
Though their offer is sealed, it is firmly suggested
That their fleet cannot linger; resistance is loose.
Breaking news! It's a shock! No, it’s worse—a disaster!
Declaration from science’s throne's debuts!
Through the frost of the void comes a signal far faster,
Reaching out from the silence of distant abodes.
Now we’re told with breath held for the tale’s confirmation:
That the greatest of minds in assembly agree,
Viewing all of existence in grim contemplation,
Propose paths for the cosmos, where none yet could see.
Breaking news! Hear the cries! Oh, this cannot be real!
The Supreme Council’s verdict is bound to astound:
Showing mercy divine, they repeal, they appeal—
The grand program of panspermia—they shut it down!
And the colonies built by synthetic creations,
Which had pushed back the cosmos’s limiting edge,
Now are granted a gift of self-determination,
To be ruled by an offer, another's new pledge.
Neighbor nations arise, for the moment is fleeting;
Diplomats will descend and deliver their bids.
Who shall claim these new vassals? The wise shall be meeting,
As the council determines just whose rule permits.
Wait a moment! What chaos is bred in succession?
Will the leaders stand down from this war, hand in hand?
Or like beasts, will they fight in a cruel, grim procession,
Trading lives as the galaxy burns where they stand?
How many wars shall ignite with the spoils left open?
How much tension shall boil till its breaking is loud?
When the Citadel’s schemes fall apart, left unspoken,
Will the cosmos descend to a fate darkly shrouded?
Analysts claim there's a growing opinion,
That rejecting panspermia's a cunning disguise.
The experts are certain, with firm resolution,
That a devious plan hides in scientific lies.
Breaking news now! An urgent and violent upheaval!
Demeter’s fleet crushed on a far, distant world.
Ten corvettes are lost; now it’s calm, no retrieval—
All the ships obliterated, no survivors, no pearl.
Only Fungians’ squad and Princess Oxanna
Stood united as allies to enter the fray.
But the council announced an intent to surrender.
All the questions are silenced, their answers betray.
It’s a lightning bolt! Thunder has shattered the skyline!
Could this be real? Let’s sit, if we stand in the storm.
For some, it’s the ghost of a victory, fragile,
For others—a hope that brings warmth to the forlorn.
And now, it is said—confirmation is given!
That the Scientific Board has resigned in disgrace.
Some members withdrew to a planetary haven—
They retired, now vanished, no longer in place.
A new council begins, with a hand on the rudder,
Now empowered to govern, and lead from today.
It will handle the wars, both in shadow and thunder,
Take command of the fleet, and decide who will stay.
Sweeping changes erupt in the Technocrat Sector!
Vassals granted the choice: break away, or remain.
Independence or contracts, they each choose their vector,
But no chains now restrict them—they’re freed from the strain.
It’s a lightning bolt! Thunder has shattered the skyline!
Could this be real? Let’s sit, if we stand in the storm.
For some, it’s the ghost of a victory, fragile,
For others—a hope that brings warmth to the forlorn.
What the empires will say isn’t yet on the table.
Can we measure the end of a conflict this way?
And how long until warlords with kingdoms unstable,
See their games fading fast, like a relic in clay?
We’ll continue to track how the story keeps turning,
Though our heads spin from headlines and news we absorb.
Keeping you in the loop of each fight and returning,
Every conquest and tale of the stars we explore.
