Before the ravens leave the eaves, She binds her palms and rolls her sleeves. Her father watches from his chair, The silver sleeping beside him there. He taught her how to turn and strike, How fear can spoil a steady fight. He said her mother died in war. She never thought to ask for more. Then years later, by the pass, A dying rider grips the grass. He wears her father’s blackened brand: “He sold your mother for his land.” Silver has a memory, Every scar a name. It remembers every promise, Every oath betrayed. Let the wolves come through the doorway, Let his dark flags touch the ground. Silver has a memory. And she remembers now. (Remembers now) He swore her mother would be spared, Then left her to the men out there. He shut the gates and let them through, Then taught his child the lie was true. He raised a stone where no one lay, And wore his crown another day. For all those years beside his chair, The silver kept the secret there. She crosses back through rain and snow. There’s only one place left to go. Beyond the ridge, one window burns. Her father waits for her return. Silver has a memory, Every scar a name. It remembers every promise, Every oath betrayed. Let the wolves come through the doorway, Let his dark flags touch the ground. Silver has a memory. And she remembers now. (Remembers now) Her father waits beside the flame, The silver bright beneath his name. She walks alone across the floor, He knows what she has come there for. He draws the blade with steady hand, She takes her place and makes her stand. The old hall holds its breath around— Then steel rings out, a silver sound. Silver has a memory, Every scar a name. Steel meets steel crashing in the hall, Throwing sparks into the flame. Let the old stones hear them thunder, Let the rafters shake around— Silver has a memory. And one blade hits the ground. (Hits the ground) The hall grows still. The fire burns low. She lifts the silver from below. No crown to claim. No oath remains. Dawn spills red across the plains. She walks where all his black flags fall. The sword remembers— [Rest] That is all. [Bridge: Pull the arrangement darker and heavier. Floor toms, low drone, viola/fiddle. Electric guitars re-enter with thick open fifths as the duel begins.] Her father waits beside the flame, The silver bright beneath his name. She walks alone across the floor, He knows what she has come there for. He draws the blade with steady hand, She takes her place and makes her stand. The old hall holds its breath around— Then steel rings out, a silver sound. [Final Chorus: Heaviest section without becoming metal.] Silver has a memory, Every scar a name. Steel meets steel crashing in the hall, Throwing sparks into the flame. Let the old stones hear them thunder, Let the rafters shake around— Silver has a memory. And one blade hits the ground. [Outro: Let electric layers fall away one by one. Leave 12-string, low hurdy-gurdy drone, faint viola and one final hammered-dulcimer figure.] The hall grows still. The fire burns low. She lifts the silver from below. No crown to claim. No oath remains. Dawn spills red across the plains. She walks where all his black flags fall. The sword remembers— [Rest] That is all.
