Авторский текст из финального пакета. Сверка с аудио — после загрузки записи.
I left the dead among their own.
The olive leaves were gold.
Beyond the hills, a million hearts
still beat for me to hold.
No god had sent me to their doors.
No queen had named a price.
They gave me what no throne could win:
the keeping of their lives.
His silence stayed within my hands.
Then through the dark I heard
the breathing of the living world—
no single voice or word.
The world will have you back at dawn.
The eastern windows shine.
I loosen every sleeping hand
and keep no breath as mine.
The room takes shape before your eyes.
The east comes into view.
You gave me all you were at night.
I give you back to you.
The hand that held a hammer slept.
The hand that held a crown.
The hand that closed a dying eye
at last itself lay down.
One lay beneath a silken roof.
One slept beneath the rain.
The dark knew neither rich nor poor.
I counted breath, not name.
No prayer was said. No bargain made.
No thunder crossed the sky.
They simply laid their waking down
and trusted they would rise.
The world will have you back at dawn.
The eastern windows shine.
I loosen every sleeping hand
and keep no breath as mine.
The room takes shape before your eyes.
The east comes into view.
You gave me all you were at night.
I give you back to you.
At last my sister reached the door.
Gold gathered on the sill.
She did not call the sleepers back.
She waited, warm and still.
To close the eyes was not enough.
Death knew that silence too.
I was the road a living breath
could take—and still come through.
Her light moved under every lid.
The eastern windows paled.
I let each borrowed rhythm go.
The waking world inhaled.
The world will have you back at dawn.
The eastern windows shine.
I open every sleeping hand
and keep no breath as mine.
The room takes shape before your eyes.
The east comes into view.
I give you back to all you love.
The world returns to you.
The world awoke.
I kept nothing.