///*****/// [Riff Invocation] In Oakhaven's furnace district, where stone towers rise behind cranes, mills, and crowded infirmaries. chimneys write black laws across the morning while Lyra inventories bandages instead of victories. The old war enters on a drumbeat, but another rhythm waits beneath it. [Verse of Iron] Lyra is ordered to guide a frontier column, map supply roads, and keep soldiers alive during a decisive push. Steel gives every frightened answer the same hard voice, yet the ground receives the blood without asking which language named it. I carry the weight of orders and the quieter weight of doubt. Somewhere beyond the visible battle, a patient hand adjusts the board. [Lift] She loves the human brilliance that builds bridges, yet fears the hunger that mistakes every horizon for an invitation. If conscience is a wound, let it remain open until truth enters. [Great Chorus] Turn the engines, spare the bones A city is more than walls and stones If progress needs a widow's cry Then change the road, or ask me why Turn the engines, spare the bones A city is more than walls and stones If progress needs a widow's cry Then change the road, or ask me why [Verse of Root] The royal counselor secretly redirects siege engines toward ground with no strategic value, calling the order essential. What seemed like chance reveals a door; what seemed like duty reveals a chain. Every remembered face becomes a witness standing wordlessly behind the choice. The future is not promised, only placed within reach of hands prepared to change. [Breakdown] I have closed too many young men's eyes Before their beards had learned to grow No map is worth a nameless field No crown can heal what healers know Let the drums fall back and leave one naked heartbeat in the hall. Let the smallest act of mercy challenge every monumental lie. [Twin-Lead Guitar Solo] Begin with the melodic color of chimneys write black laws across the morning while lyra inventories bandages instead of victories; climb through the tension of she loves the human brilliance that builds bridges, yet fears the hunger that mistakes every horizon for an invitation; let two guitar voices disagree, listen, and finally discover a shared phrase. [Great Chorus — United] Turn the engines, spare the bones A city is more than walls and stones If progress needs a widow's cry Then change the road, or ask me why We will not feed tomorrow with the ashes of today. Turn the engines, spare the bones A city is more than walls and stones If progress needs a widow's cry Then change the road, or ask me why [Aftermath] Lyra rides beneath the iron gate A sealed command burns in her coat Its red wax bears the counselor's mark Its destination is the forbidden ridge [Echo] chimneys write black laws across the morning while Lyra inventories bandages instead of victories.
