[Verse 1] I was the first tide. Salt in my mouth. Before crowns, before names, before the counting of stars. I held the black water close, I held the brine and the storm, I held the old hunger that never asked permission. Then I shaped a body from my own deep law: scales like wet night, horns like broken moons, a tail that could split the foam and leave the sea trembling. You call him monster. I call him mine. [Pre-Chorus] He came from my oldest current, from the womb of the flood, from the place where the sea keeps its teeth. I gave him a brow of serpent fire, I gave him a lion’s grip, I gave him the patience of things that outlive temples. He rose when I rose, he breathed when I breathed, and every wave knew his hard, holy outline. [Chorus] Mushussu, my son Mushussu, my spear Mushussu, my vow All deep things hear Mushussu, my son Mushussu, stand near Mushussu, my oath My storm-made heir [Verse 2] I named him in the first dark when the sky was still uncut. No husband set the measure, no king laid a hand on this. I am the mother of the salt horizon. I am the widow of silence, the bride of the abyss. He is born of my solitude, my plenty, my wrath. He does not need a softer world to make him true. On his neck the fur of a lion, on his brow the horns of power, on his feet the talons of judgment, on his back the scales of the deep. No two waters are alike. No two sons of mine are tame. [Pre-Chorus] He learned my language early: the crack in the reef, the moan beneath the tide, the flash before the wreck. He learned who to face, who to fold around, who to guard with a body like a locked gate. When I stirred in anger, he became my first answer. When I hungered for order, he became my hard line. [Chorus] Mushussu, my son Mushussu, my spear Mushussu, my vow All deep things hear Mushussu, my son Mushussu, stand near Mushussu, my oath My storm-made heir [Verse 3] They speak of other gods as if they stand above the mud, as if heaven made them pure and the deep made me cruel. Let them keep their bright halls. Let them count their clean divisions. I am older than their judgment, older than their fear. My dominion is the undertow, the drowned name, the hidden blade. My alignment is the tide itself: it nourishes, it breaks, it returns. Mushussu follows that law. He is not mercy alone. He is not ruin alone. He is the crossing where both meet. He guards the border of my breath. He keeps the trespass from my door. He is the beast that says: enough, and further not. [Bridge] Hear me, children of the upper air— you like your gods with polished hands, you like your monsters safely chained, you like your mothers made of song. But I am Tiamat. I remember the first hunger. I remember the first wave. I remember the first form that my own shadow could wear. Mushussu is my memory given muscle, given scale. He is the proof that I can shape what terror is for. [Final Chorus] Mushussu, my son Mushussu, my spear Mushussu, my vow All deep things hear Mushussu, my son Mushussu, stand near Mushussu, my oath My storm-made heir Mushussu, my son Mushussu, rise clear Mushussu, my name In fang and fear [Outro] So when you speak of him, speak low, and speak true. He is not a tale that ended. He is the shape my waters kept.
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