[Intro] [felt piano: a single black key in a frozen room] [8-bit ice-split, one voltage snap, dry phonograph hiss] [Choir, hummed] Ah—ah—ah— the stolen vow has teeth. [Verse 1] [sung, low, piano walking under the vocal like cracking ice] The leftover learned a second name It reached into the dark and took A black wing sewn onto the gray A cannon grown from borrowed luck I followed thunder through the frost I thought I found a door I didn’t hear the fusion lock I only asked for more [Pre-Chorus] [piano climbing in sparse octaves, bass under the floor] Don’t bless the splice that finds you Don’t praise the bolt that waits It only loves the living ideal Still twitching in your chest [Chorus] [lead + dark choir, piano doubling the hymn] Black Kyurem, Black Kyurem Saint of the black mile You wear a dragon like a sleeve And smile a voltage smile Black Kyurem, Black Kyurem Mercy made of theft You teach the lost to keep their promise Then take the arm that’s left [Verse 2] [piano more percussive, hammer noise left in] They find them standing in the sleet With ice burned into bone Their mouths still shaped around a creed The right hand called its own Zekrom can swear. The husk can hold. This circle will not share A little 8-bit hymn still ticks Inside a shoulder that was never there [Pre-Chorus] Don’t look too long into the seam Where ideal was undone If you can feel the borrowed pulse You’re already the gun [Chorus] Black Kyurem, Black Kyurem Saint of the black mile You wear a dragon like a sleeve And smile a voltage smile Black Kyurem, Black Kyurem Mercy made of theft You teach the lost to keep their promise Then take the arm that’s left [Verse 3] [quieter, piano alone, then the ice starts to tick] It doesn’t hunt along the ground It hunts the need to stand It waits until you pick a future Then freezes both your hands Freeze Shock: a kindness first A statue for a breath Then every ideal in the ice Detonates the rest [Bridge] [spoken over one held piano note, choir under it] Kyurem was the hole. Zekrom was the vow. Absofusion is not marriage. It is a vacant saint putting on a god the way a wound puts on a tourniquet and calling the pressure holy. [Drop] [choir + electric ice + piano clusters, no hero solo] Fuse. Fuse. Fuse. Hold. Overdrive the hollow. Freeze the oath. Shock the statue. Break the both. The saint does not believe. The saint is wearing belief. [Final Chorus] [piano, dark choir, chiptune — still not triumphant] Black Kyurem, Black Kyurem Saint of the black mile You wear a world that wasn’t yours And smile a funeral smile Black Kyurem, Black Kyurem Say it if you dare The chasm bows. The black looks down. It already knows you’re there. [Outro] [voltage dies first, ice remains, piano last] [Lead] If the dark begins to carry A voice you almost know— [Choir] Don’t finish the vow. It already did.
