[Intro | cracked music box, solo violin, cello drone, 8-bit blade tick, choir on an ugly vowel] [Choir, hummed] Ah—ah—ah— the sword has teeth. [Verse 1 | sung, low, cello under the glade, violin in a blade-bright line] The wood went still without a war The rust began to sing A blue wolf opened in the gleam And said the guard was king I came to put the old blade down I came to close the myth I thought the burial was the end I thought the end was it The hilt was warmer than the ground The edge was in the root A voice the size of buried kings Said I could finish it [Pre-Chorus | sung, rising, violin climbing, no comfort] Don't bless the edge that finds you Don't praise the wolf that waits It only loves the living hand Still reaching for the plate [Chorus | lead + steel choir, cello on the title, violin answering the last line] Zacian, Zacian Saint of the sword mile You wear a legend like Sunday clothes And smile a bitten smile Zacian, Zacian Mercy made of steel You teach the lost to raise the blade Then be the wound you heal [Verse 2 | sung, strings closer, chip tick like a slow sharpening] They find them standing in the glade With hands still on the hilt Their mouths still open from a vow The vow is what was spilt A red wolf waits beside the gate And does not take the stroke The blue one bows, the blue one stays The staying is the cloak A kingdom can resheathe the myth A child can learn the vow This circle will not let the rust It is cutting now [Pre-Chorus | violin higher, cello unwilling] Don't look too long into the gleam One sword, one open grave If you can feel the hilt go tight You're already its slave [Chorus | lead + choir, fuller strings] Zacian, Zacian Saint of the sword mile You wear a legend like Sunday clothes And smile a bitten smile Zacian, Zacian Mercy made of steel You teach the lost to raise the blade Then be the wound you heal [Verse 3 | sung, quieter, cello alone, violin thin] It doesn't hunt along the road It hunts the need to guard It waits until you call it hero And answers from the shard The rain can cover half the wood The wood will not forget A little 8-bit hymn still ticks Inside a golden bit It drinks the vow before the flesh It files you with the gleam It leaves a sword still in the fist To show the next one what you mean [Chorus | bigger, choir stacked, violin answering every other line, still not triumphant] Zacian, Zacian Blue chapel, no way home You fold a body into edge And wear it while you roam Zacian, Zacian Legend learned a tune You leave the kingdom quieter And hungrier too soon [Bridge | spoken over one held cello note, violin barely there, 8-bit tick slow] The sword was buried to end the cutting. You dug it up and called the digging faith. Zamazenta kept the gate. Zacian kept the stroke. The wolf does not hate the hero. The wolf is the hero's last stroke when someone asked the rust to be holy again. The unburying was the meal. [Drop | no beat drop — choir, cello drone, violin tremolo, chip tick stacking] Cut. Cut. Cut. Vow. Vow. Vow. The saint does not swing. The saint is wearing swing. Bleed. Bleed. The hilt remembers every hand that raised it. [Verse 4 | sung, low, almost spoken-sung, strings under] I felt the edge go through my wrist I felt the glade agree The blue wolf turned, the red wolf watched And saved a stroke for me If someone else should find the wood And ask the blade to stay Tell them the legend is already full Tell them the gleam is the way [Final Chorus | lead + full choir, violin and cello with the choir, still not triumphant] Zacian, Zacian Saint of the sword mile You wear a legend like Sunday clothes And smile a bitten smile Zacian, Zacian Say it if you dare The blade bows. [Outro | cello drone holds, 8-bit blade tick does not stop, violin stops first, choir on the ugly vowel] Ah—ah—ah— the sword stays raised. Ah—ah—ah— the sword stays raised. The next one is already digging.
