
Ego Oso [LXX]
[Verse 1] I come to the water, a visitor invited—drawn by a drink And the quiet dripping of survival’s slow and brutal maths. The bucket waits— cold and empty metal— a vessel for whatever fragile offering's on the riverbank... To carry the weight of its belief. [Verse 2] I come to the water, I move like smoke through pines— thin but restless every spring, curling around boulders and bark. Pine resin keeps cold hollow dens. Now I am named and called, shaped into song and fear, an echo lodged in the throat of a lie that tightens like a noose, Because I came to the water. [Chorus] Every day I trace the old trails, where the earth folds the pages of a book written in sediments— I see the pilgrimmage of moss to stone. But their words stalk me— Vultures skreeling above my carcass their cries splitting the veil of stillness— ripping tendons from the history of raw bones, tearing sinew from the scarred crown scraping the dead branches with their hunger —that slow unmaking of brittle stories broken down like kindling. [Bridge] I have worn their names —stones in my fur, —splinters in my claws, each a weight and a trap sprung —but not enough force to break the bone. They'll cast me in twilight's bronze and blood —a statue melting under a sun I'll never see, But now their stories —ashes before the dawn of my breathing. [Outro] They want more paper rags— I give them my still shadow racing over riverstones below— Let them write divine in fear and flames —the beast defined as if they'd know; I am the river’s teeth on the moon’s throat. I am the river’s teeth on the moon’s throat. I am the river’s teeth on the moon’s throat. I am the river's teeth on the moon's old souls. Look how the water comes to swallow their tongues. I come to the water. I come to the water. I come.

