[Intro – spoken, low] Two pans. One beam. Nobody’s thumb on it. [Verse 1] Black feathers in a bowl of brass, Obsidian where the shadows pass, A crescent moon pressed in the rim, Smoke curling up like a half-heard hymn. [Verse 2] Across the beam the white plumes burn, A crystal caught in a golden turn, A little sun rolled in the pan, Light pouring down like it’s got a plan. [Pre-Chorus] And everyone’s waiting for one side to fall, For the dark to go under, or the light to take all… [Chorus] But the scale holds level, the chain hangs true, A feather’s a feather, whatever its hue. I won’t tip it sweet just to make it shine, I’ll tell you what’s on it, not what you’d hope to find. Dark and light, hold still. Truth weighs more than wanting to please. [Verse 3] There’s a compass star at the very crown, A sun with a face that won’t look down, And low at the base where the needle’s set, Another star that hasn’t spoken yet. [Bridge – stripped back, just cello] Sometimes I look and the pan comes up bare, And the honest thing’s to say: nothing there. A gauge that can only ever say yes Isn’t measuring anything. It’s just a guess. [Final Chorus – full choir] So the scale holds level, the chain hangs true, I’ve carried the dark and the daylight through. I won’t tip it sweet, I won’t tip it cruel, An even hand is the only rule. Dark and light, hold still. Truth weighs more than wanting to please. [Outro – spoken, fading] Two pans. One beam. Feathers, both. Still.
