[Intro]
The bells count twelve above the frozen square,
While knives of winter comb the northern air.
I bend above a book scraped clean and white—
But murdered words still bleed beneath the light.

[Chorus]
There is ink beneath the ice, there is iron in the page,
There is thunder in the silence of a censored age.
You may scrape away the names, you may seal the archive door,
But the ink beneath the ice will stain the crown once more.
The truth is a fire no winter can kill—
And tonight, in the dark, I can feel it burning still.

[Verse 1]
I copied laws beneath a leaking roof,
Paid half in bread, half in the court’s stamped proof.
They called me failed because my hand was slow;
I saw too much in what they would not show.
A margin cut, a lineage crossed in red,
A dragon drawn beside the bloodied dead.
One broken horn, one mountain capped in blue,
One oath erased—and one surviving clue.

[Pre-Chorus]
The lamp burned low, the guards changed at the gate,
A razor waited by the book of state.
I held the page where vanished letters shone;
The lie wore gold, but truth was carved in bone.

[Chorus]
There is ink beneath the ice, there is iron in the page,
There is thunder in the silence of a censored age.
You may scrape away the names, you may seal the archive door,
But the ink beneath the ice will stain the crown once more.
The truth is a fire no winter can kill—
And tonight, in the dark, I can feel it burning still.

[Verse 2]
The oldest map was stitched with silver thread,
Its northern road declared forbidden, dead.
Yet under wax, beneath the bishop’s seal,
A rune preserved a covenant of steel.
“When northern lights like shattered banners climb,
The hornless one shall wake beyond his time.”
I heard the boots descend the granite stair;
The king’s black censors knew that I was there.

[Instrumental Break]
[Harpsichord runs race against twin guitars over galloping double-kick drums.]

[Bridge]
I was not born to carry sword or shield,
I catalogued the names of those who kneeled.
When kingdoms cut their crimes from every line,
The quiet hand must leave a truer sign.

[Build-up]
One step through snow, one breath against the wall,
One nameless clerk beneath a kingdom’s fall.
No herald sang, no watching banners stirred—
A frightened man escaped carrying one word.

[Final Chorus]
There is ink beneath the ice, there is iron in the page,
There is thunder in the silence of a censored age.
They may hunt me through the streets, they may burn the archive floor,
But the ink beneath the ice has found a voice once more.
The truth is a fire no winter can kill—
I was hired to write their lies; I will write against them still.

[Outro]
Beyond the roofs, the northern heavens burned blue,
And in the snow, three ancient runes came through.