[Intro]
[Tagelharpa states the descending three-note motif before low guitars enter in nine-beat phrases.]

[Chorus]
I am the king who could not rest,
A raven’s claw inside my chest.
Each answer splits and breeds the next,
Each secret hides another text.
Let lesser rulers trust the crest—
I am the king who could not rest.

[Verse 1]
The shield-rims shone along my hall,
The winter sun lay thin and small.
Gold arm-rings warmed each loyal hand,
My word was iron through the land.
Yet under songs and drinking horns,
I heard a root beneath the boards.
It tapped three notes against the stone,
A question only I had known.

[Pre-Chorus]
The wise men bowed and named me wise,
But fear looked back behind their eyes.
A title cannot make truth bend;
A crown knows where its borders end.

[Chorus]
I am the king who could not rest,
A raven’s claw inside my chest.
Each answer splits and breeds the next,
Each secret hides another text.
Let lesser rulers trust the crest—
I am the king who could not rest.

[Verse 2]
I watched my ravens cross the dawn,
Return with frost upon them drawn.
They spoke of graves without a name,
Of unborn kings and unlit flame.
They brought me every whispered scheme,
The beggar’s curse, the widow’s dream.
But when I asked what ends the thread,
They cleaned their beaks and bowed their heads.

[Break]
[The guitars withdraw, leaving floor toms and the unresolved tagelharpa motif.]

[Bridge]
What use is sight that guards a throne
But cannot see beneath the bone?
What use is strength that wins a field
But never learns what fate has sealed?

[Instrumental]
[Seven-string guitar and tagelharpa exchange the three-note motif across alternating bars of 9/8 and 4/4.]

[Buildup]
No feast can fill the mouth of doubt.
No locked door keeps the question out.
I would trade comfort, blood or breath
To learn the workmanship of death.

[Buildup II]
Harness the wolves and clear the gate—
There is a well that drinks from fate.

[Final Chorus]
I am the king who could not rest,
No mead could drown what knowledge pressed.
Each answer splits and breeds the next,
Each secret scars another text.
I leave the throne, the hall, the crest—
I am the king who could not rest.

[Outro]
The root still knocks beneath the floor,
Three notes—
Then northward through the door.