[Intro – low, cold, almost whispered, with distant drumbeats] Lugn... Hear the mountain breathe. Hear the rifles pray. Snow over blood. Blood under white. I was born where the wind learned how to kill. [Verse 1 – restrained, solemn, steady] Boots in the frost and the barrel held still, High on the ridgeline above the kill, Far below where the banners shake, One breath, one finger, one life to take. White on the mountain, gray in the dawn, You learn real quick who the war feeds on, Boys in their uniforms, proud and dumb, Thinking the songs mean glory will come. But fan, the snow knows every name, It buries the brave and the fools the same, And I learned young what the officers hide: The maps stay clean while the soldiers die. [Pre-Chorus – rising, tense, controlled] So hold your breath, håll linjen now, Don’t let the barrel shake somehow, Lugn, min hand, and still my fire, One shot can drag a world down lower. [Chorus – huge, anthemic, with choir and gang vocals] Crossfire! From the white line, from the high wire, I was the frost and the funeral choir, One cold shot and the whole sky cried. Crossfire! Helvete sang through the rifle fire, Snow in my lungs and my heart burned higher, I was the eye where the dead men hide. [Verse 2 – deeper, more personal, strong rhythm] Four hungry borders around our land, Four iron mouths and a rifle in hand, Every winter another lie, Another king saying who should die. I watched old friends through a scope one day, Saw their faces before the spray, Same cold hills, same starving breath, Just different flags deciding death. Skit in the trenches, ice in the bone, Hours in silence, dying alone, You don’t fight loud when you’re made for range, You wait like the mountain and pray for change. [Pre-Chorus – sharper, harder, with mounting drums] Count the wind and mark the flame, Never miss and never name, Lugn, mitt hjärta, do not break, The war takes more than one can take. [Chorus – bigger, harsher, with stronger backing choir] Crossfire! From the white line, from the high wire, I was the frost and the funeral choir, One cold shot and the whole sky cried. Crossfire! Helvete sang through the rifle fire, Snow in my lungs and my heart burned higher, I was the eye where the dead men hide. [Bridge – quieter at first, emotional, with swelling choir] My mother ran through the mountain snow, Two little daughters and nowhere to go, And when she fell to the fever’s hand, I swore I’d carry what war had damned. Min syster, hear me through the storm, I kept you fed, I kept you warm, If I must kill to keep you alive, Then let them curse me — we still survive. [Breakdown – hard, martial, half-sung, half-commanded] Take the ridge! Hold the sight! Grip the stock and wait for light! No mercy from the frozen sky, Only the strong and the buried lie! Take the ridge! Hold the line! Blood on snow and smoke in pine! If I fire, I fire true, And death remembers all it knew! [Final Chorus – highest intensity, full choir, triumphant but grim] Crossfire! From the white line, from the high wire, I was the frost and the funeral choir, One cold shot and the whole sky cried. Crossfire! Helvete sang through the rifle fire, Snow in my lungs and my heart burned higher, I was the eye where the dead men hide. Crossfire! Hear the drums and the church bells tire, War made a ghost and called me sniper, Still I walked when the rest all died. Crossfire! Förlåt for the ones I left in fire, But I chose my blood over kings and liars, And I’d do it all for her life. [Outro – slow, haunting, almost prayer-like] Lugn now... The mountain keeps what the empire breaks. Snow falls. Rifle sleeps. And still my name goes on: Crossfire.
