Why Greatness Cannot Be Planned (Shoegaze)

Based on the book: Why Greatness Cannot Be Planned by Kenneth O. Stanley. Lyrics: [Intro] [Instrumental] [Verse] Wake in the wash of a colourless dawn, milestones humming like wires in the walls, each small hour with a number and name, every bright instinct reduced to a grade. The compass burns in the palm of my hand, pointing forever to where I should stand, but under the needle, a wilderness sings: “do whatever you find most interesting” [Pre-Chorus] Let the signal blur, let the straight lines bend, there are doors in the noise that the maps never meant. [Chorus] Let go, let go, the far beacon lies in the snow. Step where the dark water shines, one stone at a time. No road, no throne, no way to see what the strange seed has grown. If I lose what I thought I should know, I might find where the wild futures go. [Verse] An alien face in a flickering frame, its eyes falling down till the wheels took their place, no one imagined the car in the ghost, no one was searching for what mattered most. Random-born blossoms were handed along, branch after branch made the accident strong, beautiful things all came to light from not looking for them that night. [Pre-Chorus] In the mist of the lake, at the fork without signs, the stone that looks wrong may be holding the sky. [Chorus] Let go, let go, the false compass pulls where it wants us to go. Step where the dark water shines, one stone at a time. No road, no throne, no unified objective to own. If we scatter like stars through the blue, your lost path may build what I’ll walk into. [Instrumental] [Verse] A robot turns from the goal in the maze, finds every doorway by wandering away; thirty-nine passages open and gleam, while the hunter of distance dies near the dream. A teacher lays down the mechanical test, a child keeps a universe under her desk, the standards converge till the colours are one— divergence remembers the shape of the sun. [Bridge] [Whisper] (where we can get from here) (not how we can get there) Bicycles rise into wings in the air, calligraphy sleeps in a screen unaware, cubes without goals become cities of light, the present leans forward and opens the night. “there can’t be a right path” when no destination is calling us home; only the scent of the possible, only the next unknown. [Wall of Sound] Let go, let go, let the branching river overflow. Every dead end leaves a stone, every strange hand carries one. Let go, let go, greatness arrives where plans cannot go. All of our means may be measured and sane, while the object goes mad in the rain. [Final Chorus] Let go, let go, the horizon was never a road. Follow the shimmer nearby, the almost, the why. No road, no throne, we are more than the goals we have known. “To achieve our highest goals, we must be willing to abandon them” (Abandon them) (Abandon them) [Outro] The needle dissolves in the white amplifier,