Dragon Singer

experimental, classical, trip hop, IDM, and avant-garde, female vocals, smokey alto voice

Dragon Singer - Lyrics ©HartOz 2025

[Intro]
(Style: Begins with the sound of sharp, crystalline chimes and a deep, tectonic drone. Whispered Icelandic fragments (e.g., *Hreistur... Eldur...* (Scale... Fire...)). A slow, ominous, synthetic beat emerges, like a heavy footstep.)

(Whisper)
The mountain... it sleeps...
With one eye.
Open.

[Verse 1]
(Style: Voice enters, close-mic'd, raw and vulnerable, over a scattered, glitchy rhythm. A deep, sub-bass pulse. Icy, dissonant string plucks. Voice suddenly leaps up the octave on "tiny".)
The village hides behind the peat (ooh-ooh)
Under the shadow of the stone-giant
His rumble shakes the cups
From... the... shelf.
I am small, just bones and wool
But my throat is a... (eh-ah)... tiny volcano.

[Pre-Chorus]
(Style: Rhythm intensifies, becoming skittish and urgent. Harp arpeggios run backward. Voice gains strength, climbing the scale, rolling the 'r' in "rock".)
I climb the black-rock (r-r-rock) tooth
Past the bones of sheep
My feet are like reindeer moss
(Ah-ah-ahhh-eh)
Finding grip on the vertical slate
(A-ha!)

[Chorus]
(Style: An explosion of sound. Massive orchestral string swells. Heavy, distorted drum breaks. Voice soars, raw and powerful, using glottal stops.)
I sing to the obsidian mountain!
I weave a crystal... bridge... for his rage
My voice a silver thread (Ah-ah!)
To stitch the crack in the earth
To make the fire-heart... (calm-m-m).

[Verse 2]
(Style: Music recedes. Skittering micro-beats, like insects on ice. A lone, mournful cello. The deep bass drone returns. Voice is hypnotic, stretching the vowels.)
His eye is a pool of hot lava (Ooo-ooo-oooh)
Reflecting my pale face
The sulfur-steam, it curls...
Like a curious cat.
He has not heard a sound like this
(Eee-yah)
Not since the glacier... (carved-d-d) the land.

[Pre-Chorus]
(Style: Rhythm accelerates again. Electronic glitches and pops. The backward harp returns. Voice is insistent, almost percussive.)
I climb inside the echo-chamber
Past the heat of his core
My hands are cold like river stones
(Ah-ah-ahhh-eh)
I stand upon the golden hoard
(A-ha!)

[Chorus]
(Style: Full intensity. Orchestral stabs and electronic crashes. Voice is triumphant, almost a shout-sing, pushing the air out.)
I sing to the obsidian mountain!
I weave a crystal... bridge... for his rage
My voice a silver thread (Ah-ah!)
To stitch the crack in the earth
To make the fire-heart... (calm-m-m).

[Bridge]
(Style: Sudden dynamic drop. Sparse, atmospheric electronics. Sounds of water dripping in a vast cave. The seismic drone. Voice is a breathy, processed whisper, multi-layered and shifting.)
We are two... (ooh-ooh) lonely things
The fire-mountain... and the winter-wren
He is ancient... I am... (now-w-w)
But the note...
The note connects us
(Vocalisation: A complex, winding, wordless melody, high and clear, like an ice-flute)
(Ha-da-da-ka-ya-ooooh)

[Outro]
(Style: Music slowly disintegrates. The beat fractures and stops. The string swells fade into a cold, ambient synth pad. Voice fades back to a whisper, elongating the final words.)
He does not burn the fjord (Ah-ah-ah)
He... sleeps.
And I...
Am the Dragon Singer.
The rumble... is his... (purr-r-r-r).
(The crystalline chimes return, then silence.)

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Dragon Singer - Lyrics ©HartOz 2025 [Intro] (Style: Begins with the sound of sharp, crystalline chimes and a deep, tectonic drone. Whispered Icelandic fragments (e.g., *Hreistur... Eldur...* (Scale... Fire...)). A slow, ominous, synthetic beat emerges, like a heavy footstep.) (Whisper) The mountain... it sleeps... With one eye. Open. [Verse 1] (Style: Voice enters, close-mic'd, raw and vulnerable, over a scattered, glitchy rhythm. A deep, sub-bass pulse. Icy, dissonant string plucks. Voice suddenly leaps up the octave on "tiny".) The village hides behind the peat (ooh-ooh) Under the shadow of the stone-giant His rumble shakes the cups From... the... shelf. I am small, just bones and wool But my throat is a... (eh-ah)... tiny volcano. [Pre-Chorus] (Style: Rhythm intensifies, becoming skittish and urgent. Harp arpeggios run backward. Voice gains strength, climbing the scale, rolling the 'r' in "rock".) I climb the black-rock (r-r-rock) tooth Past the bones of sheep My feet are like reindeer moss (Ah-ah-ahhh-eh) Finding grip on the vertical slate (A-ha!) [Chorus] (Style: An explosion of sound. Massive orchestral string swells. Heavy, distorted drum breaks. Voice soars, raw and powerful, using glottal stops.) I sing to the obsidian mountain! I weave a crystal... bridge... for his rage My voice a silver thread (Ah-ah!) To stitch the crack in the earth To make the fire-heart... (calm-m-m). [Verse 2] (Style: Music recedes. Skittering micro-beats, like insects on ice. A lone, mournful cello. The deep bass drone returns. Voice is hypnotic, stretching the vowels.) His eye is a pool of hot lava (Ooo-ooo-oooh) Reflecting my pale face The sulfur-steam, it curls... Like a curious cat. He has not heard a sound like this (Eee-yah) Not since the glacier... (carved-d-d) the land. [Pre-Chorus] (Style: Rhythm accelerates again. Electronic glitches and pops. The backward harp returns. Voice is insistent, almost percussive.) I climb inside the echo-chamber Past the heat of his core My hands are cold like river stones (Ah-ah-ahhh-eh) I stand upon the golden hoard (A-ha!) [Chorus] (Style: Full intensity. Orchestral stabs and electronic crashes. Voice is triumphant, almost a shout-sing, pushing the air out.) I sing to the obsidian mountain! I weave a crystal... bridge... for his rage My voice a silver thread (Ah-ah!) To stitch the crack in the earth To make the fire-heart... (calm-m-m). [Bridge] (Style: Sudden dynamic drop. Sparse, atmospheric electronics. Sounds of water dripping in a vast cave. The seismic drone. Voice is a breathy, processed whisper, multi-layered and shifting.) We are two... (ooh-ooh) lonely things The fire-mountain... and the winter-wren He is ancient... I am... (now-w-w) But the note... The note connects us (Vocalisation: A complex, winding, wordless melody, high and clear, like an ice-flute) (Ha-da-da-ka-ya-ooooh) [Outro] (Style: Music slowly disintegrates. The beat fractures and stops. The string swells fade into a cold, ambient synth pad. Voice fades back to a whisper, elongating the final words.) He does not burn the fjord (Ah-ah-ah) He... sleeps. And I... Am the Dragon Singer. The rumble... is his... (purr-r-r-r). (The crystalline chimes return, then silence.)

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