Авторский текст из финального пакета. Сверка с аудио — после загрузки записи.
Before the plea.
Before the law.
The blade came down.
The blood ran warm.
One drop reached
the palace stone.
The earth received
a mother's name.
Your father's name
filled your mouth.
A god stood
at your back.
You raised the blade
to balance death.
The floor
received the act.
The room could hold
a thousand reasons.
The stone could hold
one fact.
You came to speak
of justice.
Her blood
had spoken first.
You brought us reasons.
The floor
brought us blood.
Before the court
had language,
the debt entered
the stone.
The blood knew her name.
The stone knew your hand.
Before the law,
before the plea,
before your reasons learned to stand.
The blood knew her name.
It ran through the ground.
You called it justice.
The earth
called us forth.
You named the father.
You named the god.
You named the debt
as due.
You named the law
that moved the blade.
The blood
kept naming you.
You spoke of balance,
spoke of wrong,
spoke of the house restored.
But every word
arrived too late.
The stone
had heard before.
The blood did not
deny your grief.
It did not
choose a side.
It held the mother
and the son
inside
the same red line.
The blood knew her name.
The stone knew your hand.
You named the father.
You named the god.
The blood still knew
where you would stand.
The blood knew her name.
It ran through the ground.
You called it duty.
The earth
called us forth.
The room can hold
a thousand truths.
The stone can hold
the fact.
Your grief is real.
Her blood is real.
No reason
cancels that.
Mother.
The blood knew her name.
The stone knew your hand.
Before the court,
before the god,
before the verdict took its stand.
The blood knew her name.
It ran through the ground.
You brought us reasons.
The floor
brought us blood.
They say
her blood
called us.
No.
It named the dead.
Then named
the hand.
The blood knew her name.
It knew yours
too.