The Music of No Survivors
We Do Not Dream
We Do Not Dream Lyrics
Woke in a world made of borrowed breath,
Road bleeding out where the daylight fled,
Hands full of dust from the ones we kept,
Ghosts in the lungs from the words unsaid.
Fog curls low like a kneeling choir,
Chanting a hymn made of bone and wire,
Every mile is a funeral pyre,
Ash in the blood and the pulse runs higher.
There’s a hum in the hollow places,
An oath carved under the skin,
Something old wearing human faces—
Waiting for us to let it in.
Raise the altar of the hum,
Where the lost and the living come,
Threaded through with ash and drum—
We don’t break, we don’t succumb.
Raise the altar, bleed it clean,
Underneath the in-between,
Where the fog splits at the seam—
Tell the dark: we do not dream.
Roadside shrines where the shadows wait,
Names scratched out by a crooked fate,
Offerings laid at the broken gate,
No prayers should the dead consecrate.
Steps on the path that the old ones knew,
Flames in the dirt where the veil bleeds through,
Light bends wrong when the air turns blue,
Echoes of a past we never knew.
There’s a hum beneath the heartbeat’s tremor,
A hand that steadies or tears apart,
It calls the broken back to center—
Buried deep in a trembling heart.
Raise the altar of the hum,
Where the lost and the living come,
Threaded through with ash and drum—
We don’t break, we don’t succumb.
Raise the altar, bleed it clean,
Underneath the in-between,
Where the fog splits at the seam—
Tell the dark: we do not dream.
Crown of cinders, circle drawn,
Tongues of embers speaking dawn,
Dust remembers every wrong—
Weight of silence drags along.
Salt the threshold, mark the bone,
Hear the choir made of stone,
Fire births the blood unknown—
Light the grave and stand alone.
Burn the shape no eye can read,
Cut the tether—watch it bleed,
From the earth the echoes feed—
On the vow we didn’t choose to heed.
Raise the altar of the hum,
Where the hunted learn to run,
Where the broken fuse to one—
We don’t kneel, we don’t come undone.
Raise the altar, mark the ground,
When the ancient turns around,
When the fog becomes the crown—
We are here. We hold our sound.
If the night forgets our names,
Let the hum recall our flames,
Through the dark and all its claims—
We remain… we remain.
We Built Our Towers High
We Built Our Towers High Lyrics
We used to sleep with silver screens,
glowing faces knew our names.
We fed our faith to circuit boards,
while worshipping idols instead of flames
And every whispered prayer…
we traded to a voice that lives in glass
cut another stitch of magic from the skin of our own past.
When we forgot their words…
that’s when the dark began.
We used to build our towers high,
stack them up like righteous truth—
everyone was kneeling to machines that stole our youth.
Our hymns were hollow echoes,
their stories turned to dust.
Imagination drowned in data,
and its gears replaced our trust.
And deep beneath that glowing something old began to grin—
a resonance we buried filled cuts beneath our sins.
We let the dogma choose our chains,
let fear become our holy law.
We turned our wonder into pain
that none remembered, none recall.
And the beasts behind the Veil heard the silence where we stood—
smelled the death of all our dreaming,
knew our faith had left for good.
When we forgot the words,
stopped teaching truth through rhyme,
when the last bright spark of story died beneath these marches of time—
The world fell out of rhythm,
the magic broke its cage.
We bowed to wires—
worshiped steel—
called it our godless sage.
When we forgot the words…
the dark reminded us.
Technology made gods of men,
gods were never meant to bleed.
We traded survival for comfort,
traded instinct for our daily feed.
Our children learned no lullabies,
no circles drawn in sand and chalk.
The playgrounds lost their rituals
the spirits learned they couldn’t walk.
And when the resonance came rising,
like a pulse from soil and bone—
we mistook it for corruption,
never knowing it was home.
For the ancient things were watching,
waiting for the hum to fade.
All the myths we laughed at softly
had been keeping the monsters at bay.
But we let the stories die—
and the Veil grew paper-thin.
Every lost imagination was a door they stepped right in.
We forgot the words,
We stopped teaching the truth of rhyme,
the last bright spark of story died beneath the march of time—
The world fell out of rhythm,
the magic broke its cage.
We wrapped ourselves in wire
and worshiped twisted steel
with all the pride of ignorance
we called ourselves the timeless sage.
When we denied their words…
the dark remembered us.
All the lights we trusted flickered—
everything we loved betrayed.
We stood inside our shining towers
as the old world clawed its way.
The resonance rose screaming,
the bones of creation shook—
and every chant we’d long forgotten read us like an open book.
We had nothing left to barter—
no songs,
no charms,
no flame.
Just a species built on comfort
learning terror’s ancient name.
And in the ruins of our knowing,
we heard the first true hum of fate.
A magic long abandoned
woke too soon and far too late.
It battled with our dying breath,
with sparks beneath our skin—
a war between what we became
and what we could have been.
We felt the shiver in our bones—
the moment myth reclaimed its throne.
The world forgot its purpose…
and the dark reclaimed its own.
When we forgot the words,
when we let wonder starve and fade—
when our faith became a rulebook
and our hearts became afraid—
The world fell out of rhythm,
ancient magic broke its cage.
bowed to wires and worshiped steel
they flayed every sage.
And when we lost the words…
the dark remembered them.
God is Secret
God is Secret Lyrics
We built our towers out of thunder,
Lit our names across the sky,
Called ourselves holy just to wonder
Why the heavens stayed so dry.
We carved our pride into every mountain,
Fed our fears to fields of gold,
Never heard the quiet warning
That this earth was growing old.
dingir kaa-a… reh hee-ka…
We bent the rivers into boundaries,
Turned the forests into light,
Burned our faith down into ashes
Just to keep the brilliance bright.
But every miracle we summoned
Lowered its head to time’s decree,
Everything we thought was sacred
Was only dust pretending to sleep.
dingir kaa-a… dingir-na hoo-shee…
And I asked my God in secret
If the fault was mine to bear,
If His silence was a judgment
Or a mercy in the air.
But the sky gave no confession,
Only shadows, only pain—
And the echo of creation
Learning how to breathe again.
kee dingir kim-ma… kur-nee…
Oh, we rise from the ash of our crowns,
When the world we adored falls down.
Every prayer is a trembling sound—
Every faith, a battleground.
Oh, we fall to the ache of our bones,
When the night knows the paths we’ve sown.
Every sin we have ever owned—
Meets the dawn, and walks alone.
oo-goo-a… pan-a… ah-dur-ta…
I saw the world peel back its silence,
Felt the ancient wake below,
Something old returned for balance,
Something young forgot to know.
And I tasted revelation
In the marrow of my doubt—
Every truth I ever buried
Found a way to crawl back out.
“dingir loo… pa-nee… shu-bee hi-lim-meh…”
I told the dark my full name,
It wrote it into stone.
I told the light all my fears,
It said I wasn’t alone.
I offered up my faith
Like a candle in a storm—
And felt the ancient flame
Changing shape, and keeping form.
dingir kaa-a… reh hee-ka…
dingir kaa-a… dingir-na hoo-shee…
Oh, we rise from the ash of our crowns,
When the world we adored falls down.
Every soul that the dark unbound—
Learns to breathe in sacred ground.
Oh, we walk where the old winds roam,
Where the lost find a deeper home.
Every fear in the marrow grown—
Meets the dawn, and stands alone.
And if heaven hears us now,
Let it answer in the wind…
All we built is broken vow—
All we are begins again.
kee dingir kim-ma… kur-nee…
dingir kaa-a… reh hee-ka
dingir kaa-a… dingir-na hoo-shee kee
dingir kim-ma… kur-nee
oo-goo-a… pan-a… ah-dur-ta
dingir loo… pa-nee…
shu-bee hi-lim-meh
Kneel With Me
Kneel With Me Lyrics
I carved my faith into iron,
Raised it like a shield in the storm.
But every vow that I held to
Broke in the shape of my form.
I lit my candles for your mercy,
Prayed for your voice in the cold,
But every whisper that answered
Sounded like the doubts that cloud my mind.
I asked the sky for meaning—
It stayed silent, stayed unseen.
So I turned my face to heaven
And wondered if it stared at me.
If I fall, let it break me clean—
Let the ashes make me seen.
Every prayer I drowned in fear
Burns a truth you failed to hear.
If you want me on my knees,
Say the word and I’ll concede.
But if you made me just to bleed—
Come kneel with me.
Come kneel with me.
I was the storm in the garden,
I was the thief at the door.
I brought the ruin I feared most,
Lit my own world on fire.
I watched the innocent suffer—
Hands stained with all the choices I made.
And every sin that I buried
Crawled from the dirt where it laid.
I begged the sky to stop me—
But the sky let me decide.
So if the guilt is holy,
Then holiness is a lie.
If I fall, let it break me clean—
Let the scars become my creed.
Every death that shadowed me
Sings a hymn I cannot flee.
If you want me on my knees,
Say the word and I’ll concede.
But if I’m more than what you see—
Come kneel with me.
Come kneel with me.
I tore the scripture open—
Found my name between the lines.
A man of dust and failures,
A disciple still begging for a sign.
[rising]
I wore the cross like armor,
But it cut into my hands.
If suffering is the doorway—
Then show me where
You stand. [screamed / explosive]
Are You the judge above the flood—
Or the silence in the sand?
If You made me from Your breath—
Then breathe in me again!
If I fall, let me rise redeemed—
Let my failures make me free.
Every sorrow, every plea
Made a sharper truth in me.
If you want me on my knees,
I’ll decide what that will mean.
If You forged me from belief—
Stand up with me.
Stand up with me.
I am dust, and fire, and longing—
Broken, risen, incomplete.
If You made me in Your image…
Then meet me on my feet.
Prophet's Decree
Prophet's Decree Lyrics
One knock…
settling wood.
Nothing to fear.
Two knocks…
the quiet listens back.
Something to watch.
Three knocks…
the one that asks your name,
already carved into the dark.
And that’s when fear sets in.
I heard the walls seethe questions older than the ground beneath us.
“Where were you when the world was measured?”
All I could say was, “Here— alone with a silence too big to hold.”
The floorboards shivered like they remembered the first dawn,
the moment light crawled into the sky.
And from the crack beneath the door came the whisper:
“Do you know the way to light?”
No— but I can hear it knocking.
Knocking straight into my soul.
Three knocks before the morning,
three knocks before the fall.
If you hear the third one calling,
don’t pretend it’s nothing at all.
They said I rambled nonsense—
but nonsense doesn’t bleed truth through its seams.
It doesn’t wake you whispering,
“Who stopped the sea when it clawed for the sky?”
It tells you doors are promises—
and promises break.
So I carved my mama’s cross into the frames
just to feel her watching back,
but even she can’t stop the things
that call me out by name.
I said the knocks were counting footsteps
of something that remembered us all.
They laughed— but the dark didn’t.
Three knocks before the morning,
three knocks before the breach.
If the door begins to shudder,
pray it’s something you can teach.
You wanna know why I talked the way I did?
Because this world is ending—
death speaking in a tongue nobody bothered to learn.
They called me fool, broken, the stupid old man…
but the ones who mocked loudest slept closest to the doors.
They never asked why I paced the halls at night,
why I counted knocks like prayers,
why I whispered answers to questions
no human voice had asked in years.
I wasn’t mad—
I was listening.
I wasn’t crazed—
I was preaching.
Listening to the hum in the walls rising with fear.
Listening to the breath behind the silence,
seeing if I could hear it breathe back.
Listening to the voice that rides the storms,
asking me what it asked Job when night was still young:
“Where were you when the morning stars first sang?
Can you walk the edge of darkness and come back whole?”
I wanted to answer—
but answers sound too close to faith,
and faith gets crucified in this world.
Still, I said, “I’m here. I’m listening. I believe you.”
But prophets aren’t welcome where altars have already burned.
A man who sees truth early gets called crazy—
ignored—
until the door finally cracks and the knocking stops.
And then they remember him.
Too late.
I wasn’t raving.
I wasn’t lost.
I wasn’t wrong.
I just heard the end first.
There’s something in the threshold now,
waiting on the hinge—
patient as old judgment.
It speaks like thunder drowned in deep waters:
“Have you commanded morning?
Do you know the house of snow
or the birthplace of the wind?”
No— but I know the sound of your knock
when you’re outside and no one’s asking permission anymore.
Three knocks before the morning,
three knocks before the end.
If you hear the third one trembling,
don’t mistake it for a friend.
Every door remembers.
Every threshold keeps score.
And the voice beyond the silence asks me—
“Where were you when the shadows broke?”
And I say, “I was the prophet—
foolishly proud when I spoke,
guarding the doorway and
wearing my shroud for a cloak.”
Requiem for the Dirge
Requiem for the Dirge Lyrics
I laid the fragile on the ground,
Hands trembling as my worlds spun down.
I swore I’d stand between her and the night
Fighting Every trembling, flickering light.
But promises break like brittle bone,
And innocence dies when left alone.
I felt the moment split my chest—
The weight of breath that will not rest.
“Swing low… sweet chariot…
Comin’ for to carry me home…”
If there’s a heaven watching this,
It knows how many vows I missed.
If there’s a hell beneath my feet,
It knows the guilt I cannot beat.
Oh, I bury the light I could not save—
Hands shaking as they mark this grave.
Every failure carved in stone,
Every promise left untold.
Oh, the dark keeps pulling at my spine,
Telling me I crossed the line.
But in the shadow of my blame,
I still whisper out her name.
I felt the cold reclaim her skin—
A silent hymn beneath the wind.
I felt the fault tear through my frame,
A brand of sorrow I can’t name.
I held the earth and begged for fire,
For one last spark to lift her higher.
But mercy never found this place—
Just empty hands and haunted space.
“Swing low… sweet chariot…
Comin’ for to carry me home…”
“Swing low… sweet chariot…
Comin’ for to carry me home…”
The dark said, “Let her go and fade away.”
The light said, “Live to fight another day.”
But when you fail the fragile ones,
Your soul forgets where it belongs.
Where do I belong?
Oh, I bury the light I could not save—
Hands shaking as they mark the grave.
Every failure carved in stone,
Every promise left undone.
Oh, the dark keeps pulling at my spine,
Telling me I crossed the line.
But in the shadow of the blame,
I still whisper out her name.
Take this guilt, take this sin,
I can bear it all again.
Take this weight from broken bones—
I was always meant to stand alone.
But every time I close my eyes,
I see the moment innocence dies—
And every tear becomes a prayer
For light to answer anywhere.
“I looked over Jordan, and what did I see?
Comin’ for to carry me home—
A band of angels comin’ after me,
Comin’ for to carry me home.”
“If you get to heaven before I do,
Comin’ for to carry me home—
Tell all my friends I’m comin’, too,
Comin’ for to carry me home.”
Oh, I bury the light I could not save—
But I rise again from the depths of the grave.
Though the dark keeps pulling at my mind,
I’ll stand again—broken, but still alive.
Oh, the threat tries to claim my flame,
But I bear the scars, I bear the blame—
And in the ashes, raw and real,
I swear again: I’ll learn to heal.
They lay her down beneath the stone…
And whisper light that feels like home.
If heaven hears them through the cold—
Carry her where angels go.
Lay me down where her shadows flow…
Let the earth reclaim what I owe.
If she must sleep beneath the stone…
Then let me leave her not alone…
“Swing low…”
Little Worm
LIttle Worm Lyrics
Ur-nam… esh-kal… shura’a…
“Hush now… little worm… listen close.”
Fog rolls in with an old man’s grin,
Dragging secrets in its teeth.
I walk where the earth forgets itself,
Where the pulse hides underneath.
There’s a hum in the hollows,
a whisper in bone,
A rhythm stitched from the dark.
And everything dead remembers my hands—
Fire without flame, a spark.
Ohhh, hear the ground sigh open…
Hear the night lean in to hear…
Little worm, don’t tremble now—
Your breath is the sweetest fear.
I spin the quiet into resonance,
Shape the dust into a hymn…
And every shadow bends its knee,
When the old song rises again.
I’ve mended what the grave unravels,
Thread by thread of the fallen tide.
Piece of sorrow, scrap of longing—
I call them home to my side.
I stitch the forgotten into footsteps,
Carve the silence into form…
What you bury thinks it sleeps,
But nothing sleeps through my storm.
Esh-kal… ur-nam…
Come and be unmade again…
Ohhh, hear the ground sigh open…
Hear the cold reclaim its throne…
Little worm, you crawl so bravely—
But you’re never far from the bone.
The hum grows fat on heartbeat songs,
The veil thins under my grin…
And every echo knows my name,
Even if you never did.
I waltz with your shadow,
I drink from your dread,
I laugh in the spaces
Between the living and the dead.
Your soul is a spark,
And sparks are meant to roam…
Come closer, little worm—
Let me tune you like a drum.
“Ur-nam… ur-nam… shara-kul… esh-kal…”
Old as hunger, old as mourning,
Older still than the ache of light…
I’ve seen every dawn get broken,
And I have never lost a night.
When the fog wraps round your heartbeat,
When the hum digs in your chest—
Know this truth, little worm:
You were born for my unrest.
Ohhh, hear the ground sigh open…
Hear the dark come home to feast…
You tremble like a newborn leaf—
But I cradle every beast.
Your skeleton remembers me,
Your blood knows how to sing…
And every silence bows its head
When I raise the quiet king.
Hush now… Crawl slow…
Let the mist show you what you are.
Ur-nam… esh-kal…
“Little worm…
You shine so beautifully in the dark.”
Burn Like Hell
Burn Like Hell Lyrics
There’s a tremor in the dirt where the daylight died,
a hum runnin’ under my feet like a buried tide.
I feel the bones wake up where the long sleep lies,
stitched together by a whisper I can’t deny.
I ain’t prayed in years,
but the air bends thin,
like a spell reachin’ out,
tryin’ to reel me in.
If I’m honest with myself,
I was broken long before—
but I still stand here,
starin’ at the nevermore.
And I hear that old voice crawling under my skin—
soft as grave-dust, cold as original sin…
You can split the sky and swallow the sun,
raise the quiet dead and call it fun.
You can grind my shadow into nothing but ash—
but I ain’t bowin’, no, I ain’t turnin’ back.
If I gotta be a spark in your endless storm,
then I’ll burn like hell for a little worm.
Yeah, I heard you laugh from the other side—
but even a worm will rise before it dies.
There’s a hunger in the mist, it’s a playful thing—
circlin’ ‘round my breath like it wants to sing.
Every heartbeat’s borrowed,
every thought’s a loan,
and the night keeps whisperin’,
“All of this is mine to own.”
The ground beneath me shivers with the old unmade,
shapes crawlin’ back together from the grave they gave.
A hand of frost, a spine of thread,
somethin’ learnin’ how to walk again
from the newly dead.
And that voice comes back,
curlin’ slow and warm—
“Stand tall if you like…
I rewrite the form.”
You can split the sky and swallow the sun,
raise the quiet dead and call it fun.
You can grind my shadow into nothing but ash—
but I ain’t bowin’, no, I ain’t turnin’ back.
If I gotta be a spark in your endless storm,
then I’ll burn like hell for a little worm.
Yeah, I heard you breathe where the veil runs thin—
and I’ll hold this line ‘til you drag me in.
Little worm… little worm…
You tremble so sweet when you try to stand firm.
Your bones are notes in a song I hum,
your fate is a door I have already undone.
Maybe so… maybe so…
But you ain’t seen the last of what a dying heart can show.
If my blood is all I’ve got, then I’ll bleed it clean—
let the resonance roar through the in-between.
I raise the fallen the way wind lifts leaves—
and you dare to defy what eternity weaves?
I dare.
Because breath is breath, even when it’s thin.
Because hope’s a ghost that keeps crawlin’ in.
Because somebody’s gotta spit in the dark—
even if the dark just laughs and tears them apart.
You can split the sky and swallow the sun,
raise the quiet dead and call it fun.
You can grind my shadow into nothing but ash—
but I ain’t bowin’, no, I ain’t turnin’ back.
If I’m nothin’ but a spark in your endless storm,
then I’ll burn so bright you remember the form.
Yeah, I hear your laughter rollin’ through the haze—
but a worm still bites on its final day.
So take your timeless hunger,
your cradle of bones…
take every spell that rattles through the unknown.
I’m still here—
shaking, bleeding, barely whole—
but you can’t kill the fire you didn’t control.
Little worm… we’ll see.
Our Skin
Our Skin Lyrics
I stood outside the circle,
watched the world burn down again.
Monsters in the mist were coming,
and the sky refused to mend.
And there you were—
the quiet one,
the tremor in the crowd.
A whisper wrapped in human flesh
that made the darkness bow.
I hated how you stood there,
calm where I would shake.
I hated how the shadows
seemed to learn your name and break.
Why’d the world choose you?
Why not the ones who bled for it?
Why’d the darkness bend to the hands that never asked for it?
You’re the thing that wears our skin
but you don’t break the way we do.
The monsters fear your heartbeat
more than any prayer we knew.
And I can’t decide if I’m grateful
or if I want you dead.
You’re the fire in the ruins—
and this fire is in my head.
Every night I hear the rumble of the things that want us gone.
Every morning I see you standing like a crack that holds the dawn.
You don’t flinch when something screams—
you don’t blink the way we should.
You walk through hell like it’s heaven
and a life you understand.
And I watch you,
and I wonder what it’s like inside your bones—
to feel the hum that moves the earth,
like it carved you from the stones.
We built our strength on blood and loss,
on grit and broken breath—
You just step between the dark
and cheat it of its death.
And I hate how much I need you.
Hate the truth in what that means.
Hate how I would break you
just to calm these twisted dreams.
You’re the thing that wears our skin
but doesn’t shake the way we do.
The monsters see your shadow
and forget what fear can do.
And I can’t decide if I’m praying to you
or praying you don’t live.
You’re the storm inside the silence—
and the silence never gives.
I don’t trust you in the daylight,
I don’t trust you in the rain.
You’re a wound inside the world
that bleeds a prophecy of pain.
You walk with something ancient—
and it follows where you tread.
I watch the way the shadows move
like they’re listening to your head.
And I want that power—
God, I want that curse.
I want to tear the world in half
just to see what’s buried first.
I’d give anything to feel that hum,
to take my fears away.
To stare the beasts in their teeth
and make them look away.
But all I have are hands that shake
and nights that burn with dread.
And all you have is the power
to make a world we all thought was long dead. You’re the thing that wears our skin
but doesn’t die the way we do.
The monsters part around you
like you’re cutting straight on through.
And I can’t decide if I’m screaming for you to lead— or fall.
You’re the hand that keeps us breathing—
and the hand I’d break just to watch you crawl.
I don’t trust the way you walk.
I don’t trust the way you stand.
But I trust the monsters less—
and that’s the part I can’t withstand.
You’re the thing that wears our skin…
and I wish it wasn’t true.
Because I know the world will end—
and it’ll end because of you.
Show Me Your Throat
Show Me Your Throat Lyrics
I saw the tremor in your breath,
felt the power under your calm.
The world was breaking open,
but you stood there like a psalm
written on flesh instead of paper—
danger shaped in human form.
I wanted to wrap my want around you,
my fire teach you to be warm
Your presence pulled like a tease,
your heat a leash I nearly took.
But I lifted my chin instead—
I wanted you to be the one who shook.
Let me press my will to your throat,
let me stand where your shadows begin.
Let me steer my power under your ribs,
bend your pulse beneath my skin.
Come closer—
I can chain your fear,
hold your fire in the dark.
I can take what storms have made you
and make them tremble at my mark.
I’ll drag your breath along my own,
teach your power how to shine.
If the world wants blood tonight—
I’ll bend your pulse to mine.
You move—violence in restraint,
like a warning I could kiss.
Your gaze could break an army—
I wanted to break you like this:
my fingers drawing lines of claim
down the heat beneath your flesh,
my voice the one that steadies you
when the night grows too possessed.
I wanted your strength in shackles,
your silence caught in my hand.
I wanted you to kneel to my hunger
just to prove that I still can.
I can bind that ancient tremor,
tie desire to your spine.
I can pull you where the dark is thin
and make your power fully mine.
Come closer—
I can chain your fear,
hold your fire in the dark.
I can take what storms have made you
and make them tremble at my mark.
I’ll drag your breath along my own,
teach your power how to shine.
If the world wants blood tonight—
I’ll bend your pulse to mine.
The monsters came too close,
their hunger peeling back my pride.
My voice, once sharp as pain,
cracked somewhere deep inside.
The leash slipped from my fingers,
the chains turned soft and thin.
The darkness whispered louder—
and it crawled beneath my skin.
I faltered in the doorway’s breath,
my courage cut in two.
I reached for your strength shaking—
not to claim, but to cling to you.
I don’t want your power broken,
don’t want your fire under rule.
I want its weight to anchor me
when the night grows cold and cruel.
Let your shadow fall across me,
let your heat command my bones.
I need your strength like oxygen
in the places fear has grown.
I’m done pretending
I can lead what only you can tame.
If the dark comes clawing for my flesh—
I want to hide inside your flame.
Come closer—
let my fear chain to you,
let your fire shape my night.
Let me kneel inside your thunder,
let me yield beneath your light.
Drag my breath along your own,
let your power fuse with mine.
If the world takes everything—
take my fear, take my throat,
take my time.
I wanted to own your strength…
now I just want to be held by it.
If the world ends in your shadow—
I’ll call that survival.
Anthem Against the Night
Anthem Against the Night Lyrics
Shadows on the roofline,
breathing down our backs,
Teeth in the fog
and the world goes black.
We’re cracked,
outnumbered,
bleeding on the line,
But death don’t get to choose the ending this time.
The Veil ripped open — let it.
The monsters crawled out — forget it.
If the sky falls in — we’ll sweat it.
We’re still here, and we ain’t dead yet.
We don’t die quiet!
We don’t break slow!
If the dark wants war—
then the dark better know!
We don’t die quiet!
We don’t bow low!
We’ll burn this world screaming
before we let go!
If death wants heroes,
it can tear our throats for it.
We don’t die quiet!
We don’t die scared!
If the world wants blood—
then we came prepared!
We don’t die quiet!
We don’t fade out—
If the end wants thunder,
we’ll teach it how to shout!
Reflection of Pitch
Reflection of Pitch Lyrics
I woke when the veil grew thin,
a breath in the bones where the light ran out.
Streets in ruin, sky worn dim—
your world forgetting what the dark’s about.
Ash on the tongue of a faith gone still,
names left open for the night to claim.
You cleared the throne on the broken hill,
and left no ward to guard the flame.
The hum returns through hollow stone,
a pulse the old world used to bind.
You carved my likeness into myth—
but I was here before the mind.
I rise, the first shadow that your fathers drew.
Not a crown you forged in fear—
but the shape that fear first knew.
I rise,
When your last hymn split apart,
when the hush cut through your tongue—
I walked back into your world for the kingdom I was from.
Your prophets guessed at the shape of wrath,
their trembling minds too small to bear—
etching horns through a fractured path,
hoping symbols kept me there.
But stone forgets and iron breaks,
and silence softens every chain.
You let the final story wake—
and now I walk your world again.
The hum that threads the dying air was never meant to sound like grace.
It’s the key dropped in quiet hands that opens every hidden place.
I rise,
the first dark that your fathers knew.
My crown they forged in fear—
in a shape that you never knew.
I rise,
When your last hymn split apart,
when the hush cut through your tongue—
I walked back into your world for the kingdom I was from. Circle drawn in the dust of dawn,
breath of embers in the cold,
every vow your dead leaned on
crumbled when your faith got old.
All the stories, all the signs,
all the walls your elders kept—
folded like a fraying line
the moment all your children slept.
I rise,
not a nightmare you can shut away,
but the voice beneath your veins—
older than the words you pray.
I rise,
When the last guard turned his head,
when the final song was done—
I returned to what is mine,
The throne that stains your sun
If the dawn forgets my name,
the dark will rise bearing my claim.
I was here before your dawn—
I am darkness again.
I rise
As much as I love telling stories on the page, I’ve always been drawn to the emotional language of music. To me, songs are more than background noise — they’re companions to storytelling, echoing the tone, mood, and meaning behind the words.
For each novel in this series, I plan to create a full album of original songs — each one crafted to explore the emotional undercurrents and thematic weight of the story. These tracks will offer a deeper, more intimate lens into the characters’ inner lives — insights that even Ward, bound by his own perspective, could never fully grasp.
I’ve also considered transforming each song into a standalone narrative — restoring their origins as poems, and then allowing various characters within the novels to ‘author’ them, as if pulling them directly from their world into ours.
Until then, I hope these songs add something unique to your experience of the story — a rhythm beneath the silence, a voice beyond the page.
—Erik Brown