​[Intro: A lonely fiddle playing a French folk tune, crackling fire sounds, distant waves] ​[Verse 1: Monotone Spoken Word] "It wasn't a duel of swords; it was a massacre of homes. While the Musketeers fought for honor in the streets of Paris, here, the honor was drowned in the Atlantic. The Acadians, who called the Mi'kmaq 'brother,' were treated like weeds to be pulled from the King's new garden." ​[Verse 2: Monotone Spoken Word] "1758. The year the fires didn't stop. They burned the cradles, the bibles, and the dikes. They packed the families into the holds of ships like cargo for the abyss. They cleared the stage so the accountant, Samuel Holland, could perform his mathematical play on a graveyard." ​[Verse 3: Intense, Rising intensity] "The great expulsion! A cleansing of the red earth! They erased the French names to make room for English gold! The Mi'kmaq watched from the shadows as their only allies were turned into smoke. Justice? There was no D'Artagnan here. Only the cold bureaucracy of a conquering ghost." ​[Outro: The accordion tune distorts and slows down, fading into the sound of a heavy, iron gate closing.] ​[Final Message: Gentle Whisper] "The smoke cleared, but the ghost of Acadia still haunts the grid." ​[End] [Stop]