Olga’s Fire 22

Dark folk-rock ballad with brooding drums, low-tuned acoustic guitars, and a gritty male vocal, Verses stay close and percussive with sparse tambourine and floor toms; chorus opens with gang vocals, bowed bass, and a high-string drone, Bridge leans into whispered storytelling, then swells with stomps and claps for a final, defiant hook

[Verse 1] They came for Igor on a winter road Hands still red from counting his gold Sent your body back in a twisted cart Thought they’d broken Kievan heart Messengers knock on the palace gate "Bow to the Drevlians Share his fate" You just smiled Poured the wine Measured every man in line [Chorus] Olga’s fire Cold as iron Bright as day You lit the night Till the ash blew their names away Olga’s fire Not a saint Not a simple bride Cross in your hand But the blaze on your side [Verse 2] "Stay and feast " you sweetly said Laid out bread Filled cups with red Two by two they drank and swayed Never saw the grave you made Bathhouse steam Doors barred tight You watched the roof catch Orange light Every scream a counted debt Every flame a vow you kept [Chorus] [Bridge] Four small birds in your open palm Thread and tar Your voice so calm "Fly back home " you murmured low "Carry my answer where I can’t go" [whispered vocals] Roofs caught first Then doors Then sky Smoke-wreathed moon watched Drevlians die You stood still in the rising heat Saint in stone Vengeance at your feet [Chorus]

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