[Intro][Anvil hits mark the pulse before fast guitars cut in; harsh male vocal enters on the first full riff.]

[Verse 1][Male Vocal: Narrator]
Bring me the sound of a cat’s soft tread,
Bring me the beard from a woman’s head.
Bring me the roots of a mountain’s stride,
Bring me the breath that the fish denied.
Bring me the spittle of birds in flight,
Bring me the sinew of bears at night.
Dwarven hands in a windowless pit
Twisted the world where it never fit.

[Pre-Chorus][Male Vocal: Narrator]
Thin as a ribbon, mean as a nail,
Lighter than linen, stronger than jail.

[Chorus][Gang Vocals]
Gleipnir, Gleipnir, silk with a wolf-bone bite,
Gleipnir, Gleipnir, pale little strip of spite.
Made from the things no hand should claim,
A ribbon for a lie, a leash for a name.

[Verse 2][Male Vocal: Narrator]
The first chain shattered, the second one screamed,
Fenrir laughed loud where the bright metal gleamed.
Gods praised his shoulders and measured his jaw,
Turning their terror to sport and law.
Then came the cord like a child’s hair tie,
Too slight for a beast, too clean for a lie.
Fenrir looked once at the faces around,
And heard no friendship under the sound.

[Pre-Chorus][Male Vocal: Narrator]
Thin as a ribbon, cold as a tooth,
Soft in the hand, but hungry for truth.

[Chorus][Gang Vocals]
Gleipnir, Gleipnir, silk with a wolf-bone bite,
Gleipnir, Gleipnir, pale little strip of spite.
Made from the things no hand should claim,
A ribbon for a lie, a leash for a name.

[Drum Break][Anvils and floor toms trade short uneven patterns.]

[Bridge][Male Vocal: Narrator]
A chain can confess by the way it is shown,
Too gentle, too pretty, too wrong to be known.
The gods called it laughter, the wolf called it test,
And Týr felt a hole open under his chest.

[Breakdown][Gang Vocals]
Who will place a hand?
Who will stand near?
Who will feed trust
To the engine of fear?

[Build-up][Male Vocal: Narrator]
The ribbon waits.
The wolf draws breath.
The hall tastes iron.
The game smells of death.

[Final Chorus][Gang Vocals]
Gleipnir, Gleipnir, silk with a wolf-bone bite,
Gleipnir, Gleipnir, pale little strip of spite.
Made from the things no hand should claim,
A ribbon for a lie, a leash for a name.
Gleipnir, Gleipnir, tighter than prophecy’s throat,
The smallest cord becomes the heaviest oath.

[Outro][Male Vocal: Narrator]
No forge-fire shone on the finished thread,
But every coal in Asgard burned red.
