The Druid's Grove

power ballad, NWOBHM (New Wave of British Heavy Metal), hard rock

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I was the boy with a bottle and a blade,
Cold hands, colder heart, every debt unpaid.
Tore at the living like hunger was a crown,
Called it need when it was poison, and I cut it down.

Farms of silence, nights that never end,
I took more than I needed - too proud to ever bend.
Blood on the snow where the snare wire sang,
The wild learned my footfall - and the foxes ran.

But somewhere in the white, something watched me bleed,
A breath like winter mercy said, “Lay down that need.”
Alone in the thorn I was found, to atone,

An elk laid a spark in my chest like a stone.
Blessed and cursed, I was broken to heal,
Turned from the taker to hands that can feel.
If I ever fall back to the man I was then,
This grove will remember and make me again.

Down a small rise where the brambles knit tight,
I stepped through the hedge and the world set right.
Rabbits didn’t scatter - they met my gaze,
A red fox counted us and simply stayed.
Blue on my tongue from the winter’s own vine,
A taste like truth whispering, “This place is mine.”

Nine stones watching, a door of bark and bone,
A cloak that said “you’re home” in a voice I’ve never known.

Alone in the thorn I was found, to atone,
An elk laid a spark in my chest like a stone.
Blessed and cursed, I was broken to heal,
Turned from the taker to hands that can feel.
If I ever fall back to the man I was then,
This grove will remember and make me again.

I wore the winter like armour, I fed my pride,
But the elk kept four feet so I could learn to stride.
“Balance,” said the leaves, “and mercy in the wound.
Return what you borrowed - the wheel must turn soon.”

I felt the brook, the burrow, the feather, the root,
A thousand living names ringing clean as truth.

(solo)

Alone in the thorn I was found, not alone,
The grove took my sins and it gave me a home.
Blessed and cursed, I am sworn to the real,
Guardian of breath and of bark and of field.
If I ever reach out with that killing hand,
This cloak will remember - and I will stand.
( I will stand.  I will stand.)

I was lost - now I’m found where the quiet begins,
I will treasure what lives - I will atone for my sins.

2134/7500

I was the boy with a bottle and a blade, Cold hands, colder heart, every debt unpaid. Tore at the living like hunger was a crown, Called it need when it was poison, and I cut it down. Farms of silence, nights that never end, I took more than I needed - too proud to ever bend. Blood on the snow where the snare wire sang, The wild learned my footfall - and the foxes ran. But somewhere in the white, something watched me bleed, A breath like winter mercy said, “Lay down that need.” Alone in the thorn I was found, to atone, An elk laid a spark in my chest like a stone. Blessed and cursed, I was broken to heal, Turned from the taker to hands that can feel. If I ever fall back to the man I was then, This grove will remember and make me again. Down a small rise where the brambles knit tight, I stepped through the hedge and the world set right. Rabbits didn’t scatter - they met my gaze, A red fox counted us and simply stayed. Blue on my tongue from the winter’s own vine, A taste like truth whispering, “This place is mine.” Nine stones watching, a door of bark and bone, A cloak that said “you’re home” in a voice I’ve never known. Alone in the thorn I was found, to atone, An elk laid a spark in my chest like a stone. Blessed and cursed, I was broken to heal, Turned from the taker to hands that can feel. If I ever fall back to the man I was then, This grove will remember and make me again. I wore the winter like armour, I fed my pride, But the elk kept four feet so I could learn to stride. “Balance,” said the leaves, “and mercy in the wound. Return what you borrowed - the wheel must turn soon.” I felt the brook, the burrow, the feather, the root, A thousand living names ringing clean as truth. (solo) Alone in the thorn I was found, not alone, The grove took my sins and it gave me a home. Blessed and cursed, I am sworn to the real, Guardian of breath and of bark and of field. If I ever reach out with that killing hand, This cloak will remember - and I will stand. ( I will stand. I will stand.) I was lost - now I’m found where the quiet begins, I will treasure what lives - I will atone for my sins.

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