Ents on the March

Big cinematic folk-rock with male vocals; deep toms and floor drum patterns echo a slow giant march, low strings and choirs swelling under gritty acoustic guitar, Verses stay hushed and earthy with close-mic vocal, then chorus opens into wide harmonies, bold brass, and clattering percussion like breaking stone, Final pass adds stomps and gang vocals for an unstoppable, ancient-war energy

[Verse 1] Roots in the river Moss in our hair We have watched ages You have burned our fair Bark-skin and branch-hand Sap thick as tar You woke up the mountains Now we walk to war [Chorus] We are the Ents We are rising Every footfall cracks the ground Marching on Isengard Hear the old wood sound We are the Ents We are rising Slow and heavy Never tired Marching on Isengard Till stone drowns under fire [Verse 2] Smoke on the west wind Ash in the rain Axes bit deep once We remember pain Names like old thunder Rolling leaf to leaf “Baruk Khazâd” fading Ours is older grief [Chorus] [Bridge] [low vocal register] Stone towers shaking Gears grind and groan Rivers rerouted Coming back to their own We’ll turn your wheels to water Your fires into spray When forests start walking You don’t walk away [Chorus]

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