All that's left

bardcore, period instruments, melancholic, lute, high-fidelity, harmonizing vocals, medieval

[Intro]

(whispered, close-mic, breathy—lute tremolo)

We are but bodies,
Hollowed and worn,
All throats are rasping,
All bread is gone.
Physic and relic,
Ash and the plea,
Carry me heavenward,
Darkness for me.

[Verse I]

All throats are rasping,
I heard them name it,
Called it a blessing
Penned by the saints.
Saw it in cloisters,
Learned men and scholars,
None found a cure
For the bells that they tolled there.

Was it the weather?
Was it our sin?
What stilled the marrow
And thinned out our kin?
One morn I’m coughing,
By dusk I am still,
Wrapped for the earth
At the foot of the hill.

They gazed at the heavens,
Mistook signs for flame,
Swore comets and portents
Had spoken our name.
Famine of body,
Of spirit, of sight,
Famine of knowing
What’s wrong from what’s right.
A famine of knowing,
A famine of light.

[Pre-Chorus]

(low register, droning harmony)

Some yet remain,
Some passed below,
Some were spared,
Some laid low.
Some were chosen,
Some were crossed,
Some named angels,
Some just lost.

[Chorus]

(full lute, soft viols, open harmonies)

All that remains are shadows
Where voices were,
And crosses mark the ground.
From nave to threshold
The dead still pray,
Unanswered
By heaven’s sound.

[Verse II]

They claimed the Lord spoke,
Said faith had failed,
That heaven had turned
And mercy had paled.
Fear bred the riot,
The shout and the flame,
Then silence fell
When the bells rang the same.

No help was riding,
No host at the gate,
The sickness ran faster
Than prayer or than fate.
It took the children,
It took the old,
Left cradles cold
And the brave ones bowed.

They blamed the vapors,
The waters, the air,
Some fled the borders
But death followed there.
From Londinium’s stones
To the Tuscan sun,
The hymn was the same
When the day was done.

One morn you’re coughing,
By dusk you’re a name,
None saw it coming,
None knew its face.
Famine of knowing,
Of truth, of control,
Famine of answers
To ransom the soul.
A famine of knowing,
A famine of soul.

[Pre-Chorus]

(return, slightly more distant—like a choir behind stone)

Some yet remain,
Some passed below,
Some were spared,
Some laid low.
Some were chosen,
Some were crossed,
Some named angels,
Some just lost.

[Final Verse / Outro]

(slow, bare lute; voice almost spoken at first)

Now ring the bells softly,
Let embers grow cold,
Set down the banners,
The brave and the bold.
No cure in the candle,
No truth left to tell,
Only the names
That we whisper farewell.

The earth takes the broken,
The sea takes the brave,
The choir grows thinner
With each shallow grave.
If mercy yet lingers
Beyond mortal breath,
Meet me in silence,
Meet me in death.

(last line held, instruments decay)

2668/7500

[Intro] (whispered, close-mic, breathy—lute tremolo) We are but bodies, Hollowed and worn, All throats are rasping, All bread is gone. Physic and relic, Ash and the plea, Carry me heavenward, Darkness for me. [Verse I] All throats are rasping, I heard them name it, Called it a blessing Penned by the saints. Saw it in cloisters, Learned men and scholars, None found a cure For the bells that they tolled there. Was it the weather? Was it our sin? What stilled the marrow And thinned out our kin? One morn I’m coughing, By dusk I am still, Wrapped for the earth At the foot of the hill. They gazed at the heavens, Mistook signs for flame, Swore comets and portents Had spoken our name. Famine of body, Of spirit, of sight, Famine of knowing What’s wrong from what’s right. A famine of knowing, A famine of light. [Pre-Chorus] (low register, droning harmony) Some yet remain, Some passed below, Some were spared, Some laid low. Some were chosen, Some were crossed, Some named angels, Some just lost. [Chorus] (full lute, soft viols, open harmonies) All that remains are shadows Where voices were, And crosses mark the ground. From nave to threshold The dead still pray, Unanswered By heaven’s sound. [Verse II] They claimed the Lord spoke, Said faith had failed, That heaven had turned And mercy had paled. Fear bred the riot, The shout and the flame, Then silence fell When the bells rang the same. No help was riding, No host at the gate, The sickness ran faster Than prayer or than fate. It took the children, It took the old, Left cradles cold And the brave ones bowed. They blamed the vapors, The waters, the air, Some fled the borders But death followed there. From Londinium’s stones To the Tuscan sun, The hymn was the same When the day was done. One morn you’re coughing, By dusk you’re a name, None saw it coming, None knew its face. Famine of knowing, Of truth, of control, Famine of answers To ransom the soul. A famine of knowing, A famine of soul. [Pre-Chorus] (return, slightly more distant—like a choir behind stone) Some yet remain, Some passed below, Some were spared, Some laid low. Some were chosen, Some were crossed, Some named angels, Some just lost. [Final Verse / Outro] (slow, bare lute; voice almost spoken at first) Now ring the bells softly, Let embers grow cold, Set down the banners, The brave and the bold. No cure in the candle, No truth left to tell, Only the names That we whisper farewell. The earth takes the broken, The sea takes the brave, The choir grows thinner With each shallow grave. If mercy yet lingers Beyond mortal breath, Meet me in silence, Meet me in death. (last line held, instruments decay)

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