[Intro] [solo piano, one cold interval, then a thin violin long-tone] [8-bit hex pulse under the bow] [Choir, hummed] Ah—ah—ah— the ground has teeth. [Verse 1] [sung, low, piano on the off-beat] The hills went quiet without a war The roots began to count A green eye opened in the floor And called the damage out I followed order through the grass I thought I found a door I didn’t hear the cells amass I only asked for more [Pre-Chorus] [violin climbing, no comfort] Don’t bless the scale that finds you Don’t praise the dog that waits It only loves the living world Still tilting in your chest [Chorus] [lead + choir, piano octaves, violin answering the last line] Zygarde, Zygarde Saint of the measured mile You wear a hex like Sunday clothes And smile a census smile Zygarde, Zygarde Mercy made of loam You teach the lost to beg for balance Then take the ones who roam [Verse 2] [piano more staccato, chiptune ticking like a Geiger] They find them standing in the field With green still in the mouth Their hands arranged in tidy rows As if the math ran out The cities can unlearn their smoke This circle will not yield A little 8-bit hymn still ticks Inside a honeycomb of shield [Pre-Chorus] Don’t look too long into the core Five cells, one old law If you can feel the planet list You’re already the flaw [Chorus] Zygarde, Zygarde Saint of the measured mile You wear a hex like Sunday clothes And smile a census smile Zygarde, Zygarde Mercy made of loam You teach the lost to beg for balance Then take the ones who roam [Verse 3] [quieter, violin almost alone, piano sparse] It doesn’t hunt along the ground The ground is what it is It waits until you break the scale Then shows you what it gives Ten percent comes like a friend Fifty keeps the gate A hundred folds a body up And calls the wound a state [Bridge] [spoken over a single piano note and a held violin] You asked the land to hold. It held. It held you too. Core Enforcer does not hate the thief. It deletes the imbalance. You were the extra weight. [Drop] [no beat drop — choir + 8-bit cells stacking, violin tremolo] Cell. Cell. Cell. Core. Assemble. Correct. Thousand arrows in the grass. Thousand waves that do not pass. The order does not love you. The order loves the count. [Final Chorus] [full: piano, violin, choir, chiptune, still not triumphant] Zygarde, Zygarde Saint of the measured mile You wear a world like Sunday clothes And smile a judgment smile Zygarde, Zygarde Say it if you dare The forest bows. The core looks down. It already knows you’re there. [Outro] [piano thinning, violin last] [Lead] If the roots begin to carry A voice you almost know— [Choir] Don’t step off the scale.
