[Verse 1 | intimate, slow | organ alone, sparse] It wasn’t the cold that broke me first, it was the sound—one dry crack in the air. My son didn’t fall… they tore him from me, like ripping a word straight out of my mouth. I was there, my body reduced to rags, my life hanging from a ridiculous thread, and still I understood, with brutal clarity: some pains don’t ask permission— they walk in and rename you from the inside. [Verse 2 | a little faster | organ continues, soft brushed drums enter quietly] After that, breathing became guilt. Not for what I did… for what I couldn’t. That filthy helplessness that sticks to your hands when love is weaker than a weapon. They left me alive. What a joke. Alive with my throat packed full of his name, alive with my chest turned into a grave, alive to hear, at night, how memory slaps me in the face. [Pre-Chorus | speeding up | organ swelling, deep bass enters beneath it] My rage wasn’t pretty fire—it was hunger. Hunger for justice that doesn’t know how to reason. Hunger to look you in the eyes and find nobody behind your smile. The world became simple: snow, blood, distance. And every step kept saying the same thing: don’t hide, don’t run, don’t make excuses. [Chorus | bigger but still sparse | organ full and dominant, bass and drums steady, nothing else] Because you don’t "get over" a child—you carry him. You carry him like stone and like light. I’m not walking to heal, I’m walking so you’ll know. If you think this is hate, call it that— I call it memory. I call it debt. I call it: I’m coming. [Verse 3 | faster | organ leading, drums slightly more insistent] I crawled through mud, through ice, through hunger, without dignity, without peace, without shelter. I learned the language of wounded animals, the one spoken through clenched teeth. Sometimes I saw you in the trees, in the way the wind bends the branches, and I hated myself for still moving while you were already absence. Until I understood: being alive wasn’t a prize. It was an open account. [Bridge | maximum tension | organ pulsing low, bass and drums drop away, near-spoken vocal] And now I’m close. No more landscape, no more story. Just your trail. Just my pulse. Just the hollow. I bring no glory. I bring no sermons. I bring the exact weight of what you did. [Climax / Resolution | sudden pause, then final hit | organ alone, full swell, then silence] I stand in front of you. You look at me, searching for humanity in my eyes, and you find only this: the certainty there are things that can't be forgiven. [long silence, organ holds a single sustained chord] My son. [organ fades to nothing, voice alone] And the rest… you'll sort it out in silence.
