﻿[Instrumental Intro]
(One broken harp string answers a bowed three-note tagelharpa motif before floor toms enter.)

[Verse 1]
Salt from the fjord had silvered his beard,
No hearth-fire waited, no footstep was heard.
A raven feather was tied to his hand,
A sword without blood hung dull in its band.
The ash on the cliff had outlived every crown,
Its roots split the granite, its limbs bending down.
He laid the cracked harp where the black needles lay,
And frost left the bark though the dawn stayed grey.

[Pre-Chorus]
One string gave a note like an axe through a bone,
The roots answered low from a kingdom of stone.
Nine pulses arose through the soles of his feet,
Nine roads without markers, nine hearts with one beat.

[Chorus]
Beneath the oldest bough, I heard the deep earth speak,
It named the proud as passing and the mighty as weak.
Beneath the oldest bough, where root and raven meet,
The dead became a rhythm in the frozen granite beat.
No king can bind the branches, no god can stop the years—
The ash records our laughter and the iron taste of tears.

[Verse 2]
The mist drew a ring round the edge of the height,
Then Midgard burned amber inside of his sight.
He saw mothers grinding the winter-hard grain,
Saw kings trade their sons for a verse and a name.
Above them stood Asgard in hammered-gold flame,
Below waited Hel with no hunger for fame.
Far west, giant mountains rose tooth after tooth,
While three hooded women drew blood from the truth.

[Pre-Chorus]
The sword at his hip gave a shiver of steel,
The woond in the harp split wider to feel.
A voice in the sap said, “Remember, then go—
What lives in the branches must die in the snow.”

[Chorus]
Beneath the oldest bough, I heard the deep earth speak,
It named the proud as passing and the mighty as weak.
Beneath the oldest bough, where root and raven meet,
The dead became a rhythm in the frozen granite beat.
No king can bind the branches, no god can stop the years—
The ash records our laughter and the iron taste of tears.

[Instrumental Break]
(Down-tuned guitars repeat the three-note root motif while tagelharpa and frame drums trade uneven phrases.)

[Bridge]
“Ehk seh NEE-oo HY-mah,” the blood-red runes replied,
Nine worlds turned together, each fastened to one side.
He pressed his brow to bark split black and white,
And drove the sword into the ground.

[Build-up]
Root under river, root under pyre,
Root under palace and wolf-haunted mire.
Branch over cradle, branch over grave—
Tell me what memory cannot save.

[Final Chorus]
Beneath the oldest bough, I heard the deep earth speak,
It named the proud as passing and the deathless as weak.
Beneath the oldest bough, nine worlds began to meet,
Their rivers in my marrow, their wars beneath my feet.
No king can chain the branches, no god can halt the years—
The ash records our promises, our blood and salted tears.

[Outro]
The raven left its feather.
The sword remained below.
One root uncurled like fingers—
And opened through the snow.
