Before the Silence

[Intro] Before the silence, there was exile. Not from a place, but from a time. And in that exile, a man awakened — not reborn, only displaced. [Verse 1 ] He rose in the ruins of a morning unclaimed, Where the stone was warm but the year unknown. The breath of horses, the smell of leather and rot, And a language once studied, now spoken like flame. A cart passed — bells on the harness, Voices spoke of harvest, And of war long ended. He stood still, as though history had pulled him from its sleeve and laid him gently among its footnotes. [Verse 2] France, though he could not name it. Not as a homeland, but as a text already half-forgotten. He watched men bow to saints, and women lower their eyes like veils. A name surfaced in the smoke of the street vendors— Margot. A Queen. A ghost. A monarch of laughter and poison. He understood none of it, but his body remembered the scent of betrayal. The ache of a crown worn too long. [Bridge] Was this a punishment? Or a second chance for a man who’d already failed his century? He heard music — not of his time, but his soul remembered the tempo. A wind from the south. A breath from the past. [Final Verse] Before the silence, there was the wound. Not the shot — but what led to it. A memory sealed in music. A story that would echo beyond kings, beyond dreams. And now… he walks again