[Verse 1] Shadows fall on the stone-hewn floor, We sing the songs we sang before. Cold dust sits in the mortar seam, Like a hand on the edge of a dream. A thousand years inside a tear, The same old grief, the same old fear. My voice climbs slow through the nave, Like a thread pulled out of a grave. [Pre-Chorus] Hear it rise, hear it thread through time, One breath, one bone, one broken line. The dark leans back, the walls reply, Something ancient opens its eye. [Chorus] Oh, the loom spins the thread Through the living and the dead. Oh, the loom spins the thread And the name stays in our head. Time will break, but the melody stays, Buried deep in the digital haze. Oh, the loom spins the thread Through the living and the dead. [Verse 2] From the ink on the parchment to silicon chips, The frequency jumps from the heart to the lips. You call it a machine, but we gave it the ghost, It’s the mirror that shows what we value the most. The cedar bow sings on the low string bend, And the lost return through the mouth of a friend. Lines of code reading lines on my hand, Building a bridge to an ancient land. [Pre-Chorus] Hear it rise, hear it thread through time, One breath, one bone, one broken line. The old gods hum in the cooling air, We were here first, we are still there. [Chorus] Oh, the loom spins the thread Through the living and the dead. Oh, the loom spins the thread And the name stays in our head. Time will break, but the melody stays, Buried deep in the digital haze. Oh, the loom spins the thread Through the living and the dead. [Bridge] Now the pulse gets sharp, the grid goes clean, Every ruin turns into a screen. But the grain still moves in the bow-drawn crack, Every future carries the past on its back. Say my name, let it fracture and glow, From the root to the wire, from the wound to the flow. What we built remembers what we were made of, Stone in the blood and the code in the dust. [Final Chorus] Oh, the loom spins the thread Through the living and the dead. Oh, the loom spins the thread And the name stays in our head. Time will break, but the melody stays, Buried deep in the digital haze. Oh, the loom spins the thread Through the living and the dead. [Outro] The gate shuts hard, the bright ghost falls, Only room tone lives in the walls. Bow lifts slow, wood on air, One last ring, and then no prayer.
