The second son wandered fields, No crown upon his brow. He found star metal in the dirt, But unsure of what he should do now. Do you build up homes or break them down? Do you forge your hope or wear the crown? He’s walkin’ slow and thinking deep, And the song rolls on beneath his feet. The metal sang a mournful tune, No words, but it was loud. He held it in his calloused hands, Felt humble, yet not too proud. Do you build up walls or tear ’em down? Do you lead the way or circle round? No prophecy, no guiding light— Just stars and silence in the night. He stood before his father’s throne, The King with silver hair. But the second son didn’t speak, Just stood and breathed the air. You don’t need fire to make a stand, You don’t need blood to shape the land. So take your time and walk it true, The choice ain’t made—it waits for you. So maybe he’ll build shelters strong, Or maybe forge a blade. But tonight, he’s just a quiet song, That other kings have played.
