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Arc of a Journey Lyrics
Clouds float away like iron tools on the moon
All my time is in half life
Memories over memories
Can I see more than I'm programmed to be
Constellation of orion
A picture with a past
A future so vast
A mnemonic game
On the arc of a journey
I report
There once were cities
Open academies
Avenues and tree
Human law
Automatic oracles
Calender, the years
Verbal hemispheres
Constellation of orion
The repositioned light
The post atomic night
Informing me I'm near
The axis of feeling
Constellation of orion
A picture with a past
A future so vast
A mnemonic game
On the arc of a journey
All my time is in half life
Memories over memories
Can I see more than I'm programmed to be
A picture with a past
A future so vast
A mnemonic game
On the arc of a journey
There once were cities
Open academies
Avenues and tree
Human law
Automatic oracles
Calender, the years
Verbal hemispheres
The repositioned light
The post atomic night
Informing me I'm near
The axis of feeling
A picture with a past
A future so vast
A mnemonic game
On the arc of a journey
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This is perhaps the most beautiful song I've ever heard. It is about, and written from the perspective of one of the Voyager spacecraft, launched by NASA in the 1970s, and fated to wander for eternity should nothing encounter them in the staggering emptiness of interstellar space. In the song, which is based long in future--after the earth has been consumed by the sun and humanity's inevitable extinction--the probe is aware of its unique situation amongst objects/beings, and is both thrice-lucky and thrice-cursed. Because its generator is powered by the heat from atomic-decay, it has an extremely long lifespan, however it is doomed to experience it in the most complete and devastating isolation. But a beautiful isolation it is, as it can experience the divinity of the universe afforded to no other. Although it is lonely, it carries with it all that remains of humanity, as both Voyager craft were fitted with golden records containing pictures, music, literature, all now mere artifacts of a long-dead race.
It wonders if, while but a cold machine, it may find a way to transcend its lack of emotion, and for itself find the meaning of its own existence. And as its atomic generator wanes, it senses that in its death, it may find that for which it has searched the cosmos.