Chrome King and the dreaming city of the mind

Lyrics

Midnight. Rain streaks the window of a high-rise apartment where Chrome King watches the city breathe below.
Dreams aren’t just stories—they’re your brain’s nightly cleanup, sorting memories as you sleep—starting right here, where Chrome King’s mind begins.
And tonight—like every night—it follows the same path: down through layers of thought, into the quiet theater where dreams are staged.
Deep in REM sleep, neurons fire like fireworks in a silent theater—replaying the day, pruning what’s unnecessary.
Emotions? They get filed last—especially stress. That’s why dreams feel so wild and urgent sometimes.
And when dawn breaks? The city wakes—but your mind stays behind, polishing one last memory like a jewel before locking it away.