[Verse 1: Gandalf] Not grey anymore. White. Though the color's just a cover for the fire and the fight. Walked through shadow where the deep roots dream, Where the dark drinks light from the edges of the seen. Fell with a demon through stone and smoke, Held to a thread when the worldline broke. Now I'm back with a staff and a task unfinished, Watching proud halls fade and strong hearts diminish. You three still track every crack and trace, Reading grief in the grass, finding truth in a place. Good. Keep that gift. Most folk miss what matters, Staring at the crown while the kingdom shatters. [Hook] Wheel keep turning. Hooves keep burning. Smoke keep curling into the sky. Kings forget. Riders remember. That's the reason we ride. [Verse 2: Gandalf] The little ones live. Lucky and lively. Small as a seed but they alter things widely. That's the joke of the age and the rage of the great: The hand that shifts fate rarely sits at the state. Merry and Pippin got swept by the current, Carried by roots older than memory's sermon. Safe for the moment. That's enough for today. We've a different fire drawing us away. See, power ain't always a blade in the dark. Sometimes it's a whisper that settles in hearts. A word in the ear. A doubt in the vein. A slow little poison that answers to a name. [Verse 3: Éomer] Then hear me plain. I've watched it spread. Seen strong men stoop and proud riders tread Like they carrying chains nobody else can see, Walking half-alive through a waking dream. Theodred fell and the whole land reeled. Westfold burning from field to field. Yet back in the hall where the banners fly, Every warning died beneath a softer lie. Wormtongue smiling. Silk over rot. Never drew a sword but he twisted the plot. Made caution a creed. Made fear look wise. Made honest men dangerous in the kingdom's eyes. [Hook] Wheel keep turning. Hooves keep burning. Smoke keep curling into the sky. Kings forget. Riders remember. That's the reason we ride. [Verse 4: Gandalf] Aye. That's the craft. That's the pattern. Not the clash of the spear but the slow disaster. Not the breach of the wall but the weakening will. Not the wound of the flesh but the spirit made still. I've seen old age. This isn't age. I've seen grief write sorrow across a face. This is something colder. Something concealed. Like frost on a harvest that refuses to yield. Saruman studies his towers and ledgers, Measures the world with dividers and measures. Counts every soldier. Tallies every gain. Misses the storm gathering under the rain. He thinks strength lives high in a ring of stone. I say strength's what remains when you're standing alone. In a rider still riding. In a king still crowned. In a people who remember who they are deep down. [Bridge] So saddle the horses. Tighten the reins. We've stood in the forest exchanging names. Now the road runs west and the hour runs thin. Whatever waits in Edoras, that's where we begin. [Verse 5: Gandalf] I knew Théoden once when his laugh shook halls, When his voice hit the rafters and the mead cups called. A rider first. A king second. The kind of man storms seemed reluctant to reckon with. If that flame still lives then we'll fan it bright. If it's buried beneath fear then we'll bring it to light. And if something sits whispering close to his throne, We'll drag that shadow out and send it home. [Outro] Wind at our backs. Gold in the distance. A hall on a hill and a kingdom resistant. Three hunters. One rider. One wizard returned. And a lesson every tyrant eventually learns: The smallest spark, when the season is dry, can set the whole horizon alight.
