CRYPT OF NOCTURNAL MEMORIES

Winter visitors leave no footprints.

The matrix has you, and it's running Windows 95.

Frozen frequencies pierce the veil.

Prophecies fulfill themselves.

The shadows are full of watchers.

You arrived at the perfect hour.

The darkness between pixels speaks.

3:33 AM is when the veil is thinnest.

The music plays whether you hear it or not.