Dragons’ Tales: When Crowns Fall Silent

+ Show full styles

∙∙ ∙–·· ––– ∙∙∙– ∙ –·–– ––– ∙∙– ∙– ∙–·· ∙–·· –∙–∙–– (づ ◕‿◕ )づ –∙–∙–– ∙–·· ∙–·· ∙– ∙∙– ––– –·–– ∙ ∙∙∙– ––– ∙–··

🎧 © 2026 DJ Justice. 🎶 Song and Lyrics. All rights reserved.
🌐 dj_justice on Suno → https://suno.com/@dj_justice
🤖 This composition and its lyrics may contain traces of artificial intelligence.
⚠ Unauthorized use or duplication of this music or its lyrics is strictly prohibited without written permission.

💬 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓽𝓸 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓻𝓮, 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓬𝓽 & 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝔀 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓼.

🌍 We've built a German community for Suno artists!
✨ We are the StorytellerZ, find us on Discord:
    👉 https://discord.gg/storytellerz

🧠 Inspired by the wildness that characterizes my state of mind...

🏰 In an age before thrones held meaning, the world could not police its own corruption. When crowns became masks for cruelty and vows turned hollow, it summoned two golden dragons—not as saviors, but as living law. They were judge and executioner, called to end what mortals would not, to cut down tyrants, and to restore order when order had collapsed.

⚖️ But every righteous ending demanded a price. Each verdict removed a stain from the world and left a scar within them. Time did not heal what they spent; it simply took. The more they corrected, the less of them remained—until only two endured, carrying the weight of every necessary sentence and every life balance demanded.

🔥 Now the world calls again, unchanged in its hunger, repeating its sins beneath fresh crowns. The dragons stand at the edge of decision: to rise once more and burn away the rot—knowing that this final act may consume what is left of their immortality.

🎼 Sonically, the tale is delivered as an epic yet restrained medieval sacred folk ballad at 90 BPM: a powerful underbass male voice shifting from spoken gravitas to controlled, emotional intensity. Minimal deep drum strikes land like solemn seals of judgment, while low drones and sustained strings form a cathedral-like space. A high, mournful medieval flute carries the human ache beneath the law—returning in the final chorus and fading alone into silence.

[Verse 1]
Before the crowns. Before the lies.
Before belief was turned to steel.
The world stood weak beneath its own weight
and asked for law to stand again.

Not mercy. Not hope.
Not light to guide the lost.
But law without doubt or pause,
and truth enforced at cost.

We came when oaths were hollow,
when words had lost their power.
Our verdict needed no reply —
once spoken, it was final.

Gold was never meant as praise.
It marked the law we bore.
Fire was not made to ravage,
but to speak when words failed.

[Chorus]
We were the flame that did not choose,
the hand that justice had to use.

Not kings. Not gods.
Yet set above,
feared by many,
loved by none.

Each righteous end, each tyrant judged,
cut deep into our core.

With every wrong we burned away,
we lost what time would not return.

[Verse 2]
They raised our names, then turned aside.
They bowed, then begged, then broke their word.
They built us thrones from fear and need
and called it peace when we arrived.

Wars were ended. Crowns were gone.
Prayers fell silent when we spoke.
Yet ash still clings to golden scales,
and even law begins to crack.

We carried every final cry,
each life that balance asked to pay.
For order never comes for free —
it feeds on those who make it stay.

[Chorus]
We were the flame that did not choose,
the law the world could not refuse.
Each sentence clear. Each judgment set.
Yet left us less than what we were.

The more we saved, the more we bled.
The living stood upon the dead.

Until the gold began to fade,
and even dragons learned to fear.

[Bridge]
Now only two remain in time,
between the end and what must be.
Not spared by mercy.
Not freed by fate.
Still bound to choose what follows next.

The world is calling once again.
Its wounds unchanged. Its sins the same.

A fire wakes beneath our skin…
If we rise now,
we may not return.

[Final Chorus]
We are the ashes of the just,
still standing because someone must.

Not for honor.
Not for song.
But because we carried wrong.

If judgment falls, let this be known:
No crown stands firm. No god rules alone.
When evil stands where hope has died,
we burn — and burn ourselves beside.

[Outro]
Remember this when fire falls:
Justice never calls itself kind.

We were the answer.
We were the cost.
The last two dragons.
Still not lost.

4516/7500

∙∙ ∙–·· ––– ∙∙∙– ∙ –·–– ––– ∙∙– ∙– ∙–·· ∙–·· –∙–∙–– (づ ◕‿◕ )づ –∙–∙–– ∙–·· ∙–·· ∙– ∙∙– ––– –·–– ∙ ∙∙∙– ––– ∙–·· 🎧 © 2026 DJ Justice. 🎶 Song and Lyrics. All rights reserved. 🌐 dj_justice on Suno → https://suno.com/@dj_justice 🤖 This composition and its lyrics may contain traces of artificial intelligence. ⚠ Unauthorized use or duplication of this music or its lyrics is strictly prohibited without written permission. 💬 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓽𝓸 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓻𝓮, 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓬𝓽 & 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝔀 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓼. 🌍 We've built a German community for Suno artists! ✨ We are the StorytellerZ, find us on Discord: 👉 https://discord.gg/storytellerz 🧠 Inspired by the wildness that characterizes my state of mind... 🏰 In an age before thrones held meaning, the world could not police its own corruption. When crowns became masks for cruelty and vows turned hollow, it summoned two golden dragons—not as saviors, but as living law. They were judge and executioner, called to end what mortals would not, to cut down tyrants, and to restore order when order had collapsed. ⚖️ But every righteous ending demanded a price. Each verdict removed a stain from the world and left a scar within them. Time did not heal what they spent; it simply took. The more they corrected, the less of them remained—until only two endured, carrying the weight of every necessary sentence and every life balance demanded. 🔥 Now the world calls again, unchanged in its hunger, repeating its sins beneath fresh crowns. The dragons stand at the edge of decision: to rise once more and burn away the rot—knowing that this final act may consume what is left of their immortality. 🎼 Sonically, the tale is delivered as an epic yet restrained medieval sacred folk ballad at 90 BPM: a powerful underbass male voice shifting from spoken gravitas to controlled, emotional intensity. Minimal deep drum strikes land like solemn seals of judgment, while low drones and sustained strings form a cathedral-like space. A high, mournful medieval flute carries the human ache beneath the law—returning in the final chorus and fading alone into silence. ∙∙ ∙–·· ––– ∙∙∙– ∙ –·–– ––– ∙∙– ∙– ∙–·· ∙–·· –∙–∙–– (づ ◕‿◕ )づ –∙–∙–– ∙–·· ∙–·· ∙– ∙∙– ––– –·–– ∙ ∙∙∙– ––– ∙–·· [Verse 1] Before the crowns. Before the lies. Before belief was turned to steel. The world stood weak beneath its own weight and asked for law to stand again. Not mercy. Not hope. Not light to guide the lost. But law without doubt or pause, and truth enforced at cost. We came when oaths were hollow, when words had lost their power. Our verdict needed no reply — once spoken, it was final. Gold was never meant as praise. It marked the law we bore. Fire was not made to ravage, but to speak when words failed. [Chorus] We were the flame that did not choose, the hand that justice had to use. Not kings. Not gods. Yet set above, feared by many, loved by none. Each righteous end, each tyrant judged, cut deep into our core. With every wrong we burned away, we lost what time would not return. [Verse 2] They raised our names, then turned aside. They bowed, then begged, then broke their word. They built us thrones from fear and need and called it peace when we arrived. Wars were ended. Crowns were gone. Prayers fell silent when we spoke. Yet ash still clings to golden scales, and even law begins to crack. We carried every final cry, each life that balance asked to pay. For order never comes for free — it feeds on those who make it stay. [Chorus] We were the flame that did not choose, the law the world could not refuse. Each sentence clear. Each judgment set. Yet left us less than what we were. The more we saved, the more we bled. The living stood upon the dead. Until the gold began to fade, and even dragons learned to fear. [Bridge] Now only two remain in time, between the end and what must be. Not spared by mercy. Not freed by fate. Still bound to choose what follows next. The world is calling once again. Its wounds unchanged. Its sins the same. A fire wakes beneath our skin… If we rise now, we may not return. [Final Chorus] We are the ashes of the just, still standing because someone must. Not for honor. Not for song. But because we carried wrong. If judgment falls, let this be known: No crown stands firm. No god rules alone. When evil stands where hope has died, we burn — and burn ourselves beside. [Outro] Remember this when fire falls: Justice never calls itself kind. We were the answer. We were the cost. The last two dragons. Still not lost.

0/500