*Who Would Tell Us*

[WHO WOULD TELL US] [ONE-BAR INTRO — ACOUSTIC HARMONIC, LOW BRONZE BELL] [HOOK — FEMALE LEAD, CLOSE AND CLEAR] Who would tell us we are good if the poets all were gone? [VERSE 1] A philosopher once told us poets were unhappy souls, always chasing after shadows, writing what they could not hold. But I have watched a mother read one line and start to heal; watched a hardened man break open when a song named what he felt. [PRE-CHORUS] Maybe poets carry sorrow, but they do not carry it in vain. They turn the ache to lanterns; they turn the wound to flame. [CHORUS] They are the ones who name the light when the world forgets the dawn. They give a voice to broken hearts and teach the lost to carry on. They put heaven into language; they make mercy understood. Without the poets singing, who would tell us we are good? [ONE BRONZE BELL ANSWERS “GOOD”] [VERSE 2] Who would speak for lovers when their hands are letting go? Who would bless the lonely child who thinks that no one knows? Who would make the flowers holy? Who would make the grave less cold? Who could lift a simple memory until it shone like gold? [PRE-CHORUS] Maybe poets feel too deeply; maybe that is how they see the soul beneath the surface, the song asleep inside the tree. [CHORUS — WIDER] They are the ones who name the light when the world forgets the dawn. They give a voice to broken hearts and teach the lost to carry on. They put heaven into language; they make mercy understood. Without the poets singing, who would tell us we are good? [POST-CHORUS — TWO DISTANT FEMALE VOICES, EXACT WORDS] Who would tell us? Who would tell us we are good? [VERSE 3 — DRUMS FALL BACK] For the words caught in the throat, for the grief that has no grave, for the love without a witness, for the ones no hand could save, poets gather what is scattered, give the nameless ache a name— not to praise the dark around us, but to lead us with a flame. [PRE-CHORUS — VOICE RISES] Maybe they are not unhappy; maybe they are standing near to the trembling edge of wonder most of us are taught to fear. [INSTRUMENTAL ASCENT — CELLO, VIOLINS, ELECTRIC-GUITAR BLOOM] [BRIDGE — FELT PIANO AND LEAD ALONE] Sorrow is not all they carry; they are open to the rain. They hear music in the silence, find a meaning in the pain. They are witnesses of wonder. They are keepers of the flame. They write down what we almost felt but never knew to name. [BUILD — HEARTBEAT FLOOR TOM ENTERS] If one soul survives the midnight because one honest line was heard, then the poet gave them shelter in the mercy of a word. If one heart believes tomorrow might contain a little good, then the lantern was worth carrying. Then the song did what it should. [TWO BEATS OF COMPLETE SILENCE] [FINAL CHORUS — HALF-STEP KEY LIFT, FULL CINEMATIC BLOOM] They are the ones who name the light when the night is all we know. They plant songs in empty places so the human heart can grow. They put love into forever. They make sorrow understood. When the world forgets its mercy, they remind us we are good. [FINAL CHORUS EXTENSION — STACKED EXACT-WORD HARMONIES] For the mother finding healing, for the man who finally feels, for the child whose hidden sorrow is finally seen as real, for the lovers at the ending, for the grieving where they stood— still the poets raise their lanterns. Still they tell us we are good. [OUTRO — BAND FALLS TO PIANO, CELLO, BRONZE BELL] So let the philosopher wonder. Let him measure. Let him prove. The poets give the world its soul, and the soul gives back the truth. [FINAL QUESTION — LEAD ALONE] Who would tell us we are good? [ONE BEAT OF SILENCE] [STACKED VOICES CONVERGE TO CENTER] The ones who name the light. [HARD ORCHESTRAL CHORD AND BRONZE BELL ON “LIGHT”; NO FADE]