Shrine of The Crows - Thirteen Nails For The River God

In the shallows where the reeds don’t move, The river hums an ancient tune. His breath is thick, his eyes are wide, And every soul he’s claimed still writhes inside. I came barefoot, pale with dread, Lantern low and throat gone red. Thirteen nails in a burlap shroud, One for each oath I spoke too loud. The River God don’t sleep no more, He knocks like thunder beneath the shore. I drove my sins through cedar and sod, Thirteen nails for the River God. Black lilies bloom where the lost hearts rot, And the moon drips milk from a hunter’s spot. A drowned man’s hand reached out to pray, But the water took his tongue away. I heard the choir in the cattail’s hiss, Felt the current coil like a serpent’s kiss. Every echo, every bone, Beats like drums beneath the stone. The River God don’t sleep no more, He knocks like thunder beneath the shore. I drove my sins through cedar and sod, Thirteen nails for the River God. Baptized in silt, crowned in flies, The swamp repeats what the preacher denies. Iron groans and the herons scream, He wakes beneath the fever dream. I felt His eyes in the undertow, Saw halos burn in the firefly glow. When I swung that hammer, the stars went blind, And the river whispered, “You’re mine.” The River God don’t sleep no more, He knocks like thunder beneath the shore. I drove my sins through cedar and sod… Thirteen nails, thirteen names, Thirteen tongues that burn like flames. Thirteen nights I begged the sod… Thirteen nails for the River God.