Verse 1 The library breathed dust and glue Where centuries of whispers grew The lamps were halos made of flame That hummed above each borrowed name The tables bowed with paper weight Of theories sealed in iron fate And ink ran dark on scholar’s skin Like something trying to get within Verse 2 You sat where candlelight was thin With midnight stitched along your grin A margin full of coded signs That danced between forgotten lines Your fingers stained with scholar’s proof Of sleepless hours beneath the roof Where knowledge gathered thick as wine In cracked editions bound in twine Pre-Chorus You spoke of books they never lend Of rooms that spiral without end Of lectures whispered after dusk Where ancient thinking turns to rust And every word you softly gave Was half a key, half open grave Chorus Ink beneath the fingernails Proof the night has told its tales Every page a splintered door Leading somewhere slightly more Maps are hidden in the text Every answer leaves you vexed Turn the page and you may find Something waiting in the mind Verse 3 The portraits stared from velvet frames Remembering forgotten names And somewhere in the rafters high A raven gave a patient cry You smiled like someone who had seen The gears beneath the grand machine And traced a footnote in the dark Like lighting just the smallest spark Bridge You said the brightest minds have tried To read what scholarship must hide That truth was buried deep in ink Too strange for careful men to think And as the candles guttered low You asked how far I’d wish to know Final Chorus Ink beneath the fingernails Proof the night has told its tales Every thought a sharpened key Turning quiet locks in me Somewhere in these printed bones Lie the shapes of older thrones And every secret scholars keep Only wakes when minds don’t sleep
