[Intro]
[Six chain blows strike over a descending guitar figure; the seventh strike is replaced by a snare crack.]

[Verse 1]
Soft was the ribbon they laid on my hide,
Silk in their fingers, a lie knotted tight.
They smiled as they bound me and stepped to the side;
Only one hand had the courage to bite.
I learned every footfall, remembered each face,
The scent of their feasting, the shape of their grace.
Through winters of spittle, through summers of cold,
I fed on the promise that iron would fold.

[Pre-Chorus]
The horn crossed the mountain and entered my den;
The knot became thread, and the thread broke again.
My shoulders rose hard where the false fetters rolled—
Silk may deceive me, but iron cannot hold.

[Chorus]
Iron cannot hold what the heavens betrayed,
Not ribbon, not rune, not the bargains they made.
Iron cannot hold when the old wound is told;
My teeth are the answer, my hunger is cold.
Open the pathway, abandon the fold—
The wolf has remembered: iron cannot hold.

[Verse 2]
I pulled, and the mountain lost stones from its crown;
I pulled, and the pine roots tore out of the ground.
The dwarven whisper came loose with a sound
Like ice under marching feet, cracking the ground.
My upper jaw scraped at the roof of the red;
My lower jaw furrowed the fields of the dead.
The sun smelled of prey through the smoke-covered air,
And Odin’s one eye was already there.

[Break]
[The drums drop to chain percussion and one palm-muted guitar pulse.]

No cup in Valhalla can sweeten this chain.
No skald can turn treachery noble again.
You measured my mouth, but you never once knew
How wide it would open when payment came due.

[Chorus]
Iron cannot hold what the heavens betrayed,
Not ribbon, not rune, not the bargains they made.
Iron cannot hold when the old wound is told;
My teeth are the answer, my hunger is cold.
Open the pathway, abandon the fold—
The wolf has remembered: iron cannot hold.

[Guitar Solo]
[An angular tremolo solo follows the inverted horn motif while the remaining chain strikes fall out of tempo.]

[Bridge]
I see the spear in the fire-bent sky,
A needle of kings who have taught me to lie.
Come, rune-reader, rider, collector of slain—
Bring all of your wisdom. Step into my chain.
You fed me your fear while you called it control;
Now bring me the crown, and I will bring the toll.

[Breakdown]
Jaw to the cloud.
Claw to the clay.
Gods made the prison.
Gods made the prey.
Jaw to the sun.
Blood to the snow.
Where the horn sounded,
The wolf will go.

[Final Chorus]
Iron could not hold, and the heavens now learn
What waits in the wound when the old lies return.
Iron could not hold; every bright shackle rolled,
Every rune split apart, every prophecy told.
Open Vígríðr, let spear-banners unfold—
Odin rides toward me, and iron lies cold.

[Outro]
[The rhythm stops on a full-band accent; one low wolf-like choir note continues under scraping chain.]

I kept every name.
I counted each year.
Now widen the field.
The wolf is here.