The Mouth in the Black Cliff

fantasy, dark, minor key, minimal instrumentation, dwarven history, bardic song

Chorus
So drink if you’re thirsty, and sing if you’re brave,
But don’t count your steps when you walk near that cave.
For the rock has a mouth and it hungers for sound,
And it learns every footfall that you lay on its ground.

Verse 2
They say there were doors there, a dozen gates deep,
That shut like a coffin and never could sleep.
Chains thicker than oaks creak slow in the dark,
Like a bell with no steeple and a hymn with no mark.

Verse 3
A sailor once swore, with his skin full of brine,
He heard boots on the catwalks in perfect straight line.
No lanterns, no laughter, no living to see,
Just the march of old duty still patrolling the key.

Verse 4
And down where the floodgate lies broken and wide,
Something feeds on your knowing like rot feeds on pride.
You’ll feel it, you’ll name it, then blink and it’s gone,
Like you never quite learned what you just put your hand on.

Verse 5
Some say fish-folk have temples in the drowned lower floors,
Hanging bone-charms on levers and barnacles on doors.
Some keep to the borders, some pray to the deep,
And some come up smiling when they should only weep.

Verse 6
If you find a clean hallway with no dust at all,
Turn around, turn around, don’t be greedy, don’t crawl.
For the stone loves a hero who thinks he won’t fall,
And the sea loves a story that ends in a squall.

Final Chorus
So drink if you’re thirsty, and sing if you’re brave,
But don’t count your steps when you walk near that cave.
For the rock has a mouth and it hungers for sound,
And it learns every footfall…
Then it closes the ground.

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There’s a bite in the coastline, north of kinder charts, Where the sea keeps its secrets and the stone keeps its scars. Old dock-teeth still show when the low tide is mean, And the mist tastes of iron where the waves turn to green. Chorus So drink if you’re thirsty, and sing if you’re brave, But don’t count your steps when you walk near that cave. For the rock has a mouth and it hungers for sound, And it learns every footfall that you lay on its ground. Verse 2 They say there were doors there, a dozen gates deep, That shut like a coffin and never could sleep. Chains thicker than oaks creak slow in the dark, Like a bell with no steeple and a hymn with no mark. Chorus So drink if you’re thirsty, and sing if you’re brave, But don’t count your steps when you walk near that cave. For the rock has a mouth and it hungers for sound, And it learns every footfall that you lay on its ground. Verse 3 A sailor once swore, with his skin full of brine, He heard boots on the catwalks in perfect straight line. No lanterns, no laughter, no living to see, Just the march of old duty still patrolling the key. Verse 4 And down where the floodgate lies broken and wide, Something feeds on your knowing like rot feeds on pride. You’ll feel it, you’ll name it, then blink and it’s gone, Like you never quite learned what you just put your hand on. Chorus So drink if you’re thirsty, and sing if you’re brave, But don’t count your steps when you walk near that cave. For the rock has a mouth and it hungers for sound, And it learns every footfall that you lay on its ground. Verse 5 Some say fish-folk have temples in the drowned lower floors, Hanging bone-charms on levers and barnacles on doors. Some keep to the borders, some pray to the deep, And some come up smiling when they should only weep. Verse 6 If you find a clean hallway with no dust at all, Turn around, turn around, don’t be greedy, don’t crawl. For the stone loves a hero who thinks he won’t fall, And the sea loves a story that ends in a squall. Final Chorus So drink if you’re thirsty, and sing if you’re brave, But don’t count your steps when you walk near that cave. For the rock has a mouth and it hungers for sound, And it learns every footfall… Then it closes the ground.

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