[Intro] Hear them toll… Each strike a chain, each echo a law. [Verse 1] Iron tongues swing, split the marrow of dawn, hammered horizon, obedience drawn. “Work till you break, kneel till you fall,” each toll a command, each peal a wall. Cords pull tight / rope or salvation? Every chime drips with damnation. Bread turned to ash, hope turned to stone, the bells don’t ring they sentence the bone. [Hook] Strike! The verdict comes. Cry! The gallows drum. Kneel! The village bends. Die! The trial ends. [Verse 2] Whispers in alehouse, mutters in fields, “Break the tower, let silence yield.” Pitchforks steady, torches climb high, but the bells still judge with a tongue of sky. Every toll tighter, tether to throat, every note heavier than stones on a boat. Chains of the sound, shackles of air, the trial continues though no judge is there. [Bridge] Ropes like veins, stretched to the tower, hands pull hard / final hour. Strike the bronze, strike it still, end the voice that breaks our will. [Verse 3] Crash! The ropes snap, silence floods in, for the first time ever, no judgment within. But silence is louder, it claws at the chest, a void with no rhythm, no curse, no rest. The peasants collapse, no song to obey, no toll to direct, no order to stay. The silence devours, the night won’t tell, they long for the verdict… they beg for the bell. [Final Hook] Strike! Though silence reigns. Cry! We miss the chains. Kneel! To nothing left. Die! The air bereft. [Outro] The trial was never theirs… The bells still rule the heirs. © 2025 - skvadMC
