[Intro] [Dry acoustic guitar only] [Verse 1] [Falls back to sparse acoustic tension, intimate and restrained] He was a carpenter’s son with salt in his blood, learned ropes before his prayers; could read a storm from the smell of cold and the tilt of distant air. Paid by month and whatever luck brings, he kept a pocket psalm, a charm from home, a steady hand, and faith in his two palms. [Verse 2] [Still sparse, cold, controlled] They eased her out from the winter pier as morning went to steel; the town fell small, the bell went faint, the coast slid under keel. A wave like iron, a sky like slate, his breath a ghost of steam; he set his eyes on the far gray line and stepped into the dream. [Chorus] [Explodes into crushing downpicked palm-muted riffs, double-kick drums, locked heavy guitars, single lead vocal only] I loved you first, the sea-witch sang, sound your heart in fathoms three. Strike no colors, come to me— and I will be your lee. But charts turn blank where I belong, and names fall off the sea. [Verse 3] [Falls back hard to stripped acoustic tension] By noon a squall unzipped the sky, a wall of sleet and roar; the helm kicked hard, the compass spun, his wake turned into scrawl. A cross-sea shoved him sideways far, the current running fast; his careful course got rubbed away, and north slipped past the mast. [Verse 4] [Sparse, eerie, intimate] She rose from spindrift, snow-white hair, above a nameless parallel. “Poor sailor, let me harbor you,” her voice a low green bell. His compass glass was cracked and cold, the lines hung loose and slack; the sextant lay blind in the dark, no stars to guide him back. [Chorus] [Explodes into crushing downpicked palm-muted riffs, double-kick drums, locked heavy guitars, single lead vocal only] I loved you first, the sea-witch sang, sound your heart in fathoms three. Strike no colors, come to me— and I will be your lee. But charts turn blank where I belong, and names fall off the sea. [Verse 5] [Drops back again, quiet and tense] The northern lights wrote silent paths above the masts and stays; the rigging hummed a single note, the spray froze on the rails. “Cold keeper, I am lost,” he said, “my needle swings and lies; strange water under iron moons, a harbor in your eyes.” [Chorus] [Explodes into crushing downpicked palm-muted riffs, double-kick drums, locked heavy guitars, single lead vocal only] I loved you first, the sea-witch sang, come heave-to under me. Strike no colors, rest your bones— I’ll be your quiet sea. But charts turn blank where I belong, and names fall off the sea. [Bridge] [Lower, darker, tension building] He flinched from her unearthly grace, called holy fear his creed; she bared her teeth of winter wind and swore a binding deed: I’ll rake your masts with winter’s guns, unship your helm with ice: I’ll set your keel to kiss the stones and make your breath my price. [Verse 6] [Controlled storm, leaner than the chorus] Then nor’east tore the topsails loose, the braces shrieked like wire; the pumps ran dry, the limbers choked, the galley drowned its fire. She sang of love and loneliness as lanterns climbed the beams; his name unspooled in boiling brine and slipped between the seams. [Final Chorus] [Maximum dynamic lift, crushing downpicked riffs, hard double-kick drums, full heavy guitars, single lead vocal only] I loved you first, the sea-witch sang, sound your heart in fathoms three. Strike your colors. Sink to rest. Be chartless here with me. He fell where maps are never drawn— our song remains the sea. [Instrumental Outro] [Long emotional guitar solo, melodic and heavy] [Spoken Outro] Winter of seventeen-twenty-three. Unknown water. Journey logged. Vessel lost.
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