“Unwelcome Gods” — Djurgah’s Solo Versio

“Unwelcome Gods” — Djurgah’s Solo Version (Verse, Pre-chorus, Chorus format — suited for full composition or theatrical performance) Vocal Style: Contralto / dramatic mezzo-soprano, sinister and regal Tone: Ire of a goddess wronged, reclaiming vengeance through decay and power ⸻ 🩸**[Verse 1]** I was born in rot and rainfall, Where your light dares not to tread. You sang of grace and golden chains— But left your sisters choked and bled. Your shrines are built on stolen bones, Your priests devour what they preach. Yet now you shake when swamps awake— When rot and wrath begin to breach. ⸻ 🧪**[Pre-Chorus]** You called me filth, You mocked my name. You crowned your lies In holy flame. But I am not So easily burned. The worms have whispered— Now it’s your turn. ⸻ 🐍**[Chorus]** I am the flood that never sleeps— The womb that births and breaks and seethes. My hands are roots, my tongue is ash— My wrath is slow… but when it thrashes— Saints unravel. Stars go blind. You’ll drown in truths you dared to bind. ⸻ 🌿**[Verse 2]** They thought me dead, beneath the mire— A sister left to rot in shame. But weeds remember. Fungi pray. And fury grows beneath my name. You shackled gods, you scarred the weak— You called it order. Called it peace. But I was watching, patient, cruel— A queen of vines that never ceased. ⸻ 🔥**[Pre-Chorus 2]** Your chains are rust. Your thrones are cracked. The ghosts you made Are marching back. And though your faith Still holds the blade— The roots are deep. The tide won’t fade. ⸻ 💀**[Chorus 2]** I am the blood in poisoned wells— The howling dark your canon quells. I kiss the wounds, I split the stone— I call my dead, and claim my own! Crusades will crumble. Your saints will cry. You will not chain what will not die. ⸻ 🦷**[Bridge – Spoken with low harmonies]** “You forgot the marshes. You forgot the old songs. You forgot me…” “And I remember everything.” ⸻ 🐸**[Final Chorus – Slow, thunderous]** I am the flood that never sleeps… The shrine your silence could not keep. I rise in rot, I bloom in rage— The muck of saints, turned into graves. My wrath is patient. My roots run deep. I am the goddess… you failed to keep.