Track 09 / Descent

The House of the Dead

A placeholder descent fragment for the counsel of ghosts and the weight of names.

Lyrics Manuscript / Pending

The House of the Dead

[Verse 1] At the rim of the sunless water Where the last gull turns away We poured the red into the silence And watched the color drain from day

No wind moved over the oars No fire answered the sky Only reeds like broken fingers Counting every ship gone by

[Pre-Chorus] There are doors below all distance There are names beneath the foam And the dead do not come calling Unless the living lead them home

[Chorus] Down, down Where the black rivers run Down, down Past the reach of the sun I came for a word from the darkness I came for a road through the deep But the shadows rose around me With the faces I could not keep

[Verse 2] They gathered without footfall They gathered without breath Pale as ash on the altar Cold as the mercy of death

One wore the bronze of morning One wore the salt of the wave One had the hands that held me Before the war learned my name

[Pre-Chorus] I had crossed the world for wisdom I had bartered blood for sight But truth below the earth Has no pity for the light

[Chorus] Down, down Where the black rivers run Down, down Past the reach of the sun I came for a word from the darkness I came for a road through the deep But the shadows rose around me With the faces I could not keep

[Bridge] Mother of dust Mother of silence Did you know me through the veil? I have carried kings and corpses I have watched the brave men fail

I have asked the gods for passage I have asked the stars for signs But every answer under heaven Comes wearing another man’s eyes

[Instrumental Break]

[Final Chorus] Down, down Where the black rivers run Down, down Past the reach of the sun I came for a word from the darkness I came for a road through the deep But I rose with the dead behind me And their voices sewn into my sleep

[Outro] No crown below No harp, no flame Only the shore That spoke my name

I went down To learn the way And came back older Than the day

The road home bends downward, asking the living to listen where memory has become a country of the dead.