Two Kings, One Drowning Land

We came on tide with salted decks, No charts would mark that shore— The harbor bells were cracked and dead, No welcome on that war-torn shore. Two banners hung on broken walls, Both claimed the same old crown— One boar roared loud in southern halls One northern prince held ground. Held the ground… held the ground… Black were the sails at break of day, We cursed the tide that led our way— No oath will hold! No blade will stand! Two kings choke a dying land! The guilds sell iron, grain, and lies, To both sides of the war— A ship leaves full with honest trade… Returns with something more. Hah… more… always more… The priests all bless a different king, But pray the same old gold— bitter emphasis And every oath we heard ashore Was bought… and quickly sold. Sold… sold… sold… Black were the sails at break of day, We cursed the tide that led our way— No oath will hold! No blade will stand! Two kings choke a dying land! We saw the fields where harvest died, The crows were thick as rain— And men who swore for either side Lay equal in the same. All the same… all the same… A captain drank in silence there, Would not speak of what he’d seen— Just carved two crowns into the wood… And crossed them in between. Don’t choose… don’t choose… Black were the sails at break of day! We cursed the tide that led our way! No oath will hold! No blade will stand! Two kings choke a dying land! They say the land remembers blood, hushed tension Not kings, not crown, not name— We felt it shift beneath our boots… Like something woke in flame. It wakes… it wakes… So mark this well, you sailing men, clear, direct And hear what we have learned— No crown is worth that broken shore… And none who stay return. No return… no return… Black were the sails at break of day! We cursed the tide that led our way! No oath will hold! No blade will stand! Two kings choke a dying land! Two kings… two kings… drowning land…