﻿[Intro]
(A repaired harp plays the three-note root motif and adds one new resolving note.)

[Verse 1]
Rain left the mountains in silver and clay,
The sea gave the lowlands reluctantly away.
Two figures emerged from a hollow of wood,
Their clothes stiff with salt, but their breathing still good.
They found on the cliff neither temple nor hall,
Only one young ash tree, impossibly small.
Red wool bound its root where the dark soil was stirred,
And under one leaf slept a black raven feather.

[Chorus]
The Ash Tree Remembers what monuments miss:
The hand on the water, the unrecorded kiss.
The Ash Tree Remembers no master or slave,
But the weight of each footstep from cradle to grave.
“AHS-ken HOOS-ker deh vee GLEM-mer,” let root answer rain—
The ash remembers what we forget and returns it as grain.

[Verse 2]
Its bark held the mark of a harp-maker’s knife,
The mud of a soldier denied further life.
A fragment of BEEV-rost caught dawn at its side,
A stone from the giants lay warm where roots tied.
The survivors found half of a sword in the loam,
Its edge dulled by digging, its point turned from bone.
No rune gave the skald’s name, no title remained—
Yet grass grew more thickly wherever he lay.

[Chorus]
The Ash Tree Remembers what monuments miss:
The hand on the water, the unrecorded kiss.
The Ash Tree Remembers no master or slave,
But the weight of each footstep from cradle to grave.
“AHS-ken HOOS-ker deh vee GLEM-mer,” let root answer rain—
The ash remembers what we forget and returns it as grain.

[Instrumental Break]
(Repaired harp, tagelharpa and acoustic guitar pass the resolved four-note motif between generations.)

[Bridge]
I remember the woman who carried the pail.
I remember the boy with the rope and the nail.
I remember the cook on the bridge burned and bare.
I remember a giant child offering care.

[Build-up]
Not every memory asks for a shrine.
Some ask for water, for bread and for time.
Some ask the singer to alter the song.
Some ask the living to name what was wrong.

[Final Chorus]
The Ash Tree Remembers what heaven forgot:
A throne is a season, a root is a knot.
The Ash Tree Remembers each woond without chains,
Transforming the iron, the ash and the rain.
“Nair GOO-dar FAL-ler, minns TRAH-det,” the new green branches sing—
When gods have fallen, the tree remembers spring.

[Choir - Album Finale]
Carry no sword for conquest.
Carry the mark it made.
Praise no death as glory.
Name every debt unpaid.
Keep bread for the stranger.
Keep water by the door.

[Outro]
A raven crossed the morning.
Four harp notes met the rain.
The skald was never named again—
Yet nothing lived in vain.
