Ash Between Names [Verse I | Close Whisper] I don't remember who raised the first flag. I remember only windows that forgot their light. On every map new borders are drawn, as if a line could heal a scar. Children learn their alphabet from sirens, from silence after the blast. Every language knows one word. wracaj. домой. додому. הביתה. العودة. [Chorus | Breathing Close] There are no victors when the earth remembers every step. There is no holy war when shared homes become ash. It is not nations that are enemies. It is pycha. It is гордыня. It is the hunger to rule, wrapped in flags and borrowed crowns. [Verse II] Night doesn't end with a ceasefire. It stays behind closed eyes, inside trembling hands, at an empty chair waiting forever. Trauma wears no uniform. It crosses generations, quieter than whispers, heavier than rusted steel. Far away, another speech promises peace built upon fresh ruins. Again. Again. снова. знову. [Bridge | Almost Breathless] Let the empires feeding on fear become dust. Let every throne built from suffering collapse into silence. Let no faith be sharpened into a sword. Because no heaven, niebo... небо... שמיים... سماء... needs smoke above a city. Holiness should shelter. Never command. שלום. سلام. [Final Chorus] I don't want to count another border. I want to count hands still reaching for each other. I don't want to inherit someone else's hatred. I want to leave to the future... przyszłości. будущему. майбутньому. a silence where laughter is louder than alarms. [Outro | Exhausted Whisper] If this world still has one tomorrow... let it begin with one look without hatred. With memory that refuses revenge. With courage to whisper: No human being is born an enemy. And ash... пепел. попіл. popiół. אפר. رماد. knows no nation.
