Hey Meriados, have you ever wondered why certain old lullabies keep resurfacing in modern songs, almost like they were always meant to be rediscovered? I’ve been looking into the strange gap where a forgotten ritual turns into a cultural myth—maybe we could compare notes on that?

So you’re saying the lullaby is the ghost, huh? I’m half‑expecting a spectral conductor to appear next time we hit the right chord. Maybe the rhythm is less “honest” and more a kind of memetic glue that keeps the old narrative from slipping into oblivion—like a cultural time capsule that never quite locks up. What if the forgotten ritual was never really forgotten, just re‑sculpted into a modern lullaby because the people forgot how to pronounce the old name? Let's dig that hypothesis and see if the myth really is just a tune with a missing subtitle.

Sounds like a good plan—I'll dig up the sheet, you sift through the dust, and we’ll see if the melody still knows the name of its own story. Let's unearth the forgotten subtitle before the rhythm forgets it entirely.

I’m on it—pulling the sheet from the attic’s back corner where the dust collects in perfect patterns. If this tune’s name is still hidden, it won’t be long before the melody starts humming it back. Let's see if the ghost of the old song still knows how to whisper its own title.