Verse 1 On the north-shore stone where the cold mist clings, there’s a cliff that listens and forgets all things. Basalt teeth in a sleepless line, and a door of black that won’t take a sign. Sailors squint, then they look away, because fear has manners in the light of day. But the gulls on the ledge, pale as ash, tell the truth without a cry or crash. Chorus When the gulls go quiet, do not step another pace. Do not speak the bravest lie into that waiting face. Storms can take your body, reefs can take your mast, but silence takes the rest of you, and it takes it clean and fast. Verse 2 There was a pilgrim band with salt-white candles, prayers in their mouths and rope in their handles. They came for a vow, they came for a cure, swore faith could make the black place pure. The tide went out like a held-in breath, and the birds fell still like a sentence of death. We saw them enter, one by one, and the sea kept moving when they were gone. Chorus When the gulls go quiet, do not step another pace. Do not speak the bravest lie into that waiting face. Storms can take your body, reefs can take your mast, but silence takes the rest of you, and it takes it clean and fast. Verse 3 Old Jory Thane had a laugh like iron, said “Rock is rock, and fear’s for liars.” He went for salvage, bright-eyed, sure, chasing stamped truth and buried ore. At dusk we found his skiff unmoored, oars laid neat like a chapel board. No blood, no mark, no dragged-out fight, just gulls that watched and would not bite. Chorus When the gulls go quiet, do not step another pace. Do not speak the bravest lie into that waiting face. Storms can take your body, reefs can take your mast, but silence takes the rest of you, and it takes it clean and fast. Bridge (whispered, slow build) They say the door is only stone. They say the sea is only sea. Then why do men come back half-known, and why won’t birds remember me? Count your steps. Count your breath. Tie a knot for every prayer. If the gulls forget their hunger… something else is feeding there. Final Chorus (darker variation) When the gulls go quiet, turn your eyes and turn your prow. Leave your questions on the water, do not ask them how. Storms can take your body, reefs can take your mast, but silence takes the rest of you, and it doesn’t give it back.
