[Intro]
(Low horn states the descending funeral motif over a slow six-beat drum procession.)

[Verse 1]
Ash lay on BEEV-rost where bright colors shone,
It softened each footfall and whitened each stone.
A cook from Valhalla walked barefoot and burned,
Behind him a warrior with no hall returned.
A goddess held linens around a child’s face,
A thrall carried water and offered her place.
No gatekeeper questioned the blood or the birth—
The bridge had become only distance and earth.

[Chorus]
Ash upon BEEV-rost, grey over gold,
No rank in the cinders, no young and no old.
Ash upon BEEV-rost, each footprint the same,
The road keeps no title, the smoke keeps no name.
Walk slowly, walk closely, let no hand be crossed—
A bridge becomes sacred by carrying the lost.

[Verse 2]
Heimdall leaned hard on his splintered white horn,
Its note had grown ragged, its silver rim torn.
[Heimdall - Baritone]
He said to the skald, “I watched every gate,
Yet never looked downward to measure its weight.
I guarded one ending, one enemy’s tread,
But bridges are built for the hungry instead.”
[Skald - Lead Vocal]
He gave him a fragment of rainbow-wet glass,
Then turned to support every stranger who passed.

[Chorus]
Ash upon BEEV-rost, grey over gold,
No rank in the cinders, no young and no old.
Ash upon BEEV-rost, each footprint the same,
The road keeps no title, the smoke keeps no name.
Walk slowly, walk closely, let no hand be crossed—
A bridge becomes sacred by carrying the lost.

[Instrumental Break]
(Horn, guitar and tagelharpa carry the procession while one instrument drops out after every six-beat phrase.)

[Bridge]
The skald saw a shield with King Hroald’s device,
Its gold leaf ran black through a fracture of ice.
Beneath it lay sandals too small for a guard—
A kitchen boy’s shoes, split and blistered and charred.

[Breakdown]
Not every bridge is a rainbow.
Not every guard bears a spear.
Some bridges are shields laid over a woond.
Some courage is carrying water through fear.

[Final Chorus]
Ash upon BEEV-rost, grey over gold,
The proud walk beside those their palaces sold.
Ash upon BEEV-rost, each footprint the same,
The road strips the title and tests what remains.
Walk slowly, walk closely, leave no child lost—
A bridge becomes sacred by counting the cost.

[Outro]
The horn note broke above him.
The bridge withdrew from sight.
Ash became snow around him—
And day became white.