[Intro] [Detuned twelve-string guitar picks seven-beat figures around one sustained high harmonic.] [Verse 1] I washed the knife in root-cold rain, Then watched my face divide in twain. One side was king, one side was prey; The well received them both that day. Mimir held neither cloth nor bowl. He would not comfort what he stole. The water waited, black and still, More patient than a grave or will. [Pre-Chorus] I set my thumb beneath the bone. No guard stood near; I stood alone. The blade went in without a word— The smallest sound I ever heard. [Chorus] An eye for the water, a wound for the word, A bargain no throne and no army had heard. I gave the well daylight from my face, And memory opened its cold-rooted place. An eye for the water—no witness, no plea; The well took the world and returned it to me. [Verse 2] The blood ran warm across my hand, A narrow river, bright and bland. It struck the stones in measured drops; Each drop erased a road that stopped. I held the eye above the deep; It looked awake, but could not weep. For one brief breath it watched me there, Then vanished through the water’s glare. [Chorus] An eye for the water, a wound for the word, A bargain no throne and no army had heard. I gave the well daylight from my face, And memory opened its cold-rooted place. An eye for the water—no witness, no plea; The well took the world and returned it to me. [Instrumental] [The high harmonic cuts off; low guitar and tagelharpa continue the motif with one note deliberately missing.] [Bridge] The left side darkened, yet below A second field began to glow. I saw through silt, through root, through years, Through infant laughter, widow’s tears. [Breakdown] [Elder Male Vocal: Mimir] Drink now, oath-maker. Drink your due. [Male Vocal: Odin] The cup is red. [Elder Male Vocal: Mimir] The truth is too. [Male Vocal: Odin] Wisdom never comes without a wound. [Buildup] I raised the horn with shaking hand. The water smelled of iron and sand. My severed sight looked back at me— A lantern drowned beneath the tree. [Buildup II] The root struck three notes through the stone— I drank the memory not my own. [Final Chorus] An eye for the water, a wound for the word, Now every dead generation was heard. I buried my daylight beneath that place, And thousands of endings poured into its space. An eye for the water—the bargain was done; I drank with one eye and arose without one. [Outro] My eye keeps watch where roots descend. It saw the price. It cannot end.