[Prologue – Organ & Choir] In a kingdom of banners and brass, Where the trumpets sang of golden crowns, A gardener sharpened his silver spade, And called it justice. Choir: Gloria… in tenebris. [Verse I] They told him the field was barren, That wolves had nested in the wheat. So he marched with fire in his pockets, And thunder beneath his feet. The soil was soft with promises, Perfumed by powdered lies, And every seed he scattered there Bore the color of closed eyes. He tilled the earth with iron rain, He fed it sons and bone, And when the harvest finally came, He found himself alone. [Pre-Chorus – Clean Operatic] O beautiful orchard of smoke and ash, Your fruit is bitter on my tongue. The crown I wore was forged of shrapnel, The anthem choked my lungs. [Chorus – Full Choir & Screams] I am the gardener in a graveyard of roses, Watering ghosts with gasoline tears. The thorns grow through my ribcage nightly, Blooming in cycles of gunmetal years. Sanctify me in the echo of sirens, Baptize me under artillery skies— For I have feasted at war’s long table, And swallowed the feast alive. [Verse II] There was a lighthouse by the shoreline, Built from the ribs of men. It promised safe and sacred passage, But pulled the tide within. We were moths in borrowed armor, Kissing the halo of flame, Chasing the myth of a righteous dawn That never truly came. The sea was red with lantern light, The wind was thick with prayer, And every wave that kissed my boots Left fingerprints of despair. [Bridge – Latin Choir, Whispered Gutturals] Requiem aeternam… The bells ring inside my skull. [Breakdown] I hear the cannons in the kitchen. I taste the cordite in my bread. My shadow stands at rigid attention At the foot of every bed. There’s a child beneath my staircase, Carved from memory and mud, He asks me why the garden needed So much rain of blood. I have no psalm to offer him, No scripture left to give. Only hands that shake like broken glass And a body that still lives. [Operatic Interlude] The king returned without his kingdom, A throne of splintered bone. He placed it in his living room And called the silence home. [Verse III] There’s a cathedral in my chest, Its stained glass cracked by sound. Each window shows a different field Where younger men were crowned. They kneel before invisible altars, Married to the flame, Their vows dissolve in sulfur smoke, But I still hear their names. They march across my ceiling beams, They sleep behind my eyes, And every night the orchard blooms With thunder in disguise. [Final Chorus – Extended] I am the gardener in a graveyard of roses, Pruning the stems of yesterday’s screams. The soil still whispers orders at midnight, The roots drink deep from my fractured dreams. Absolve me not of what I’ve planted, The harvest walks on two burned feet. War was a mirror held to heaven— And I shattered it in the street. [Outro – Organ & Fading Choir] So build your lighthouses of ivory bone, Sing of glory in gilded halls. But know the field remembers everything— And the gardener never leaves its walls. Choir: In tenebris… gloria. In tenebris… gloria.
