[Intro – wordless] (male lead, breathy, almost spoken) Hhh… hhh… Ooo… ooo… ooo… Midnight leans on the blackened pines, Moon like a bone through the bristle of time. Frame drum heartbeat, hollow and slow, Something old in the soil below. Rattle of seeds in a dried-out gourd, Strings like a wound that won’t close, won’t heal. Breath on the air, a barely-there word— The forest leans in to hear. Don’t speak our names too loud tonight… Aaaah… aaaaah… The roots remember every sound… Mmm… mmm… mmm… We walk where the old trees breathe, Through smoke and silver, through root and stone. No fire bright, no cheerful song— Just the night, the drum, the unknown. Hold… hold… hold the line, Between the living and the pines. Hold… hold… hold the breath, Till the forest answers back with death. Ooo… ooo… ooo… Bowed drone crawling under the skin, Shadows move where there isn’t a wind. Eyes in the dark that don’t blink or burn— Just watch, and wait, and never turn. We step in the moss without a sound, Each footfall a vow to the ground. The strings go thin, the rattles cease— Only the drum and our quiet breath. Don’t ask the trees to show the way… Aaaah… aaaaah… They only speak in debt and decay… Mmm… mmm… mmm… We walk where the old trees breathe, Through smoke and silver, through root and stone. No fire bright, no cheerful song— Just the night, the drum, the unknown. Hold… hold… hold the line, Between the living and the pines. Hold… hold… hold the breath, Till the forest answers back with death. Ooo… ooo… ooo… Roots keep the name… …the name… the name… Soil keeps the bone… …the bone… the bone… Drum keeps the time… …time… time… time… Night keeps us… …us… us… us… We walk where the old trees breathe, Through smoke and silver, through root and stone. No fire bright, no cheerful song— Just the night, the drum, the unknown. Hold… hold… hold the line, Between the living and the pines. Hold… hold… hold the breath, Till the forest answers back with death. Ooo… ooo… ooo… Hhh… hhh… hhh… If you hear your name in the trees… don’t answer. Mmm… mmm… mmm… Let the roots keep it. Let the moss cover your footsteps. Let the raven take the sound of your voice and drop it somewhere you’ll never walk again. Ooo… ooo… ooo… The drum will stop. The strings will thin to nothing. But the forest won’t forget the shape of your breath. Stand still. Close your mouth. Let the night count your heartbeats instead of you. Aaaah… aaaah… aaaah… If something calls you by name… let it be the trees. If something takes your shadow… let it be the roots. If something keeps your name… let it be the dark. Ooo… ooo… ooo… Mmm… mmm… mmm… Hhh… hhh… hhh…...
