[Stark Hand Percussion and Bass Drone Intro] [low, rumbling double-bass drone sets an ancient tone] [sparse, sharp clicks of dry wood and bone percussion] [distant, echoing stone-room choir hums a wordless melody] ...Thirteen signs... thirteen moons... before the books... [Verse 1] Thirteen moons were marked in bark By hands that knew the turning year. Oaks held names beneath their rings, And winter had its own true prayer. They tracked the water, timed the frost, Before the ancient counts were lost. [Verse 2] Then came the seal, the book, the bell, A road of Latin through the rain. They laid new stone above the springs, And gave old feasts a borrowed name. The standard hours began to fall, To build the conqueror's high wall. [Choir Refrain] [frame drums enter with a heavy, primal thud] [layered choir joins the weathered male lead] Keep the root beneath the marble, Keep the count beneath the crown! What the conqueror calls forgotten Still can rise through sacred ground! [Extended Frame-Drum and Reed Flute Breakdown] [guitars stop; frame drums play a complex, syncopated ritual rhythm] [a raw, earthy reed flute improvises a haunting melody in wide stereo space] [Verse 3] [acoustic guitars return with intricate, dark fingerpicking] At midwinter, candles gathered Where the longest night once spoke. When spring returned, bright eggs were carried Past the ash and through the smoke. The rituals stayed within the bone, Long after tribes were left alone. [Bridge] [tempo slows slightly, strings drop to a low, intense drone] Not erased, but bound and altered, Not unchanged, and not undone. Every altar kept a measure, Every tree remembered sun. They hid the math inside the rhyme, To safeguard the organic time. [Interlocking Acoustic Guitar Solo] [two acoustic guitars play a rapid, cascading, modal folk solo] [Final Choir Refrain] [full ensemble swells to maximum acoustic volume] Keep the root beneath the marble, Keep the count beneath the crown! What the conqueror calls forgotten Still can rise through sacred ground! [Outro] [all instruments vanish except the double-bass drone and bone clicks] [weathered male voice speaks completely unaccompanied] Thirteen moons beneath the calendar, Green names sleeping in the stone. Old roads wind below the choir, And the buried stones sing down. [End]
