[genre: art-pop, chamber folk, oratorio] [mood: seductive, devastating, cathartic] [dynamics: evolving from intimate to claustrophobic] [instruments: acoustic guitar, upright bass, brushed drums, piano, moaning brass, foreboding synth, field recordings] [Silas vocal-style: satiny, lucid, incandescent, crooning, insistent, imploring] [theme: the seduction of self-destruction] [tempo: 72] [intro] [music: sparse acoustic guitar, ambient field recording of wind through a dry field] Sun on the bleached wood Dust on the sermon [verse 1] [music: acoustic guitar and upright bass establish a slow, weary rhythm] Preacher speaks in tassel and stalk Says the only worthy life is one that ends Field must be exhausted for the grandest walk One perfect fruit justifies the rot [pre-chorus 1] [music: rhythmic drive increases, subtle synth pad enters] Pour your heart into the hungry soil Spill your spirit, burn your last year's oil There is no future in the seed you keep Only in the promise buried deep [chorus 1] [music: full band entry; choir joins Silas on the hook] [Silas and choir vocals: anthemic, rising] This is the hymn for the final yield The blighted flower, the salted field We sing it loud until our voices break For the harvest's hollow, golden sake [verse 2] [music: band drops back to verse texture, but darker; piano accents] Saw a man become his own silage Fed himself to the combine's blade Now he's just a name on the village A footnote in the price we paid [pre-chorus 2] [music: more intense than PC1, synth pulse is more prominent] [Silas vocals: more strained] Break your back against the coming frost Tie your worth to all that will be lost There is no virtue in the root you save Only in the offering you gave [chorus 2] [music: full band, but the brass sounds slightly strained] [Silas vocals: straining, pushing] [choir vocals: slightly less unified] This is the hymn for the final yield The blighted flower, the salted field We sing it loud until our voices break For the harvest's hollow, golden sake [bridge] [music: strips down to a dissonant piano chord and buzzing synth] [Silas vocals: whispered, then crescendoing to a strained peak] And what if the promise is a borer's lie? What if the combine's just a thing that chews? What if the purpose is to watch the seasons die What if the hymn we sing is just the sound Of our own throats closing down? This altar is a ploy [chorus 3] [music: stark, broken piano; Silas's voice is isolated, then a broken choir enters weakly] [Silas vocals: broken, sardonic, switching to strained falsetto on "prayer"] This is the hymn... is this the hymn? For the final yield... or just the end? The blighted flower... the salted field... Is this a prayer, or just a wound we've learned to hold? This hollow sake has turned so cold This hollow sake has turned [outro] [music: everything fades to a lone, decaying drone and the sound of dry stalks rattling] [Silas vocals: exhausted, spoken-whisper] The soil is tired The soil is tired The soil is tired of giving
