[Intro]
[Male Vocal]
Salt on the beard, salt on the blade,
Salt in the bargain the old gods made.

[Verse 1]
I came from the coast where the gulls cut low,
Where nets hang dark and the green tides grow.
I knew the weight of a rain-filled sail,
The creak of rope and a widow’s wail.
Now Asgard’s mud is on my knees,
No fishbone charm, no harbor trees.
My children ride with their bright eyes hard,
And shells lie crushed in the god-house yard.

[Pre-Chorus]
FRAYR sharpens mercy till it looks like war,
FRAY-yah locks grief in her falcon’s claw.
I taste old brine in the battle dust,
And wonder what gold has done to trust.

[Chorus]
NYORD's Salt Lament, wash over the slain,
Carry our names through the iron rain.
NYORD's Salt Lament, bitter and bent,
We spend our sons like silver spent.
Sea take the pride that the spear has sent,
Sing through NYORD's Salt Lament.

[Verse 2]
I saw Thor stumble where the wet stones slid,
Saw young gods bleed for what elders hid.
I heard a VAH-neer drummer break his hand,
Still beating home into foreign land.
The broken shields made a fisher’s fence,
The ravens fed without reverence.
And GOOL-vayg's gold, in a pouch of ash,
Clicked like teeth in a beggar’s sash.

[Pre-Chorus]
Odin seeks the shape of the unseen net,
FRAY-yah knows what he has not learned yet.
But grief is older than any art,
And salt finds every secret part.

[Chorus]
NYORD's Salt Lament, wash over the slain,
Carry our names through the iron rain.
NYORD's Salt Lament, bitter and bent,
We spend our sons like silver spent.
Sea take the pride that the spear has sent,
Sing through NYORD's Salt Lament.

[Instrumental Break][Bowed tagelharpa holds long notes while low toms imitate oars against a hull.]

[Bridge]
I would trade one crown for a harbor light,
One victory cry for a quiet night.
But kings do not ask what fathers pay,
When banners pull their sons away.

[Build-up]
Raise no toast for the dead too soon,
Do not carve triumph under the moon.
Let every god look at what he claimed.

[Final Chorus]
NYORD's Salt Lament, wash over the slain,
Carry our names through the iron rain.
NYORD's Salt Lament, bitter and bent,
We spend our sons like silver spent.
Sea take the pride that the spear has sent,
Remember NYORD's Salt Lament.

[Outro]
Salt on the beard, salt on the blade,
Salt in the peace that has not been made.
