[Verse 1- Gritty, palm-muted riff with eerie two-part vocal harmonies]
I’m feeding the furnace with the scraps of my name
A charcoal silhouette in a frame of kerosene
The walls are sweating copper, the air is tasting thin
I’m pulling out the stitches where the iron entered in
The ghost of a hammer is swinging in my chest
Building a cathedral just to put the rot to rest.
[Interlude-Heavy distortion drops out. Clean, ambient guitars with heavy delay and a subtle synth pad. Ethereal and spacious.]
[Chorus- High-energy, melodic, and anthemic. Big, soaring vocals.]
So break the mold and let the mercury run
I’m staring down the barrel of a midnight sun
We’re beautiful and brittle, catching light in the gray
Before the hammer comes to take the shape away
Yeah, we’re just echoes in a hollow hall
Architects of the graceful fall.
[Verse 2-The pace quickens. Down-picked, aggressive chugging begins under the melody]
The liquid silver’s rising, it’s bubbling in the throat
I’m the captain of a vessel that was never meant to float
Static in the signal, a fracture in the core
I don’t recognize the person knocking at the door
The heat is a ribbon, it’s wrapping ‘round my lungs
I’m climbing up a ladder with the broken-off rungs.
[Chorus- Full band intensity. Double-kick drumming adds a driving Metallica energy to the melodic RCD hook.]
So break the mold and let the mercury run
I’m staring down the barrel of a midnight sun
We’re beautiful and brittle, catching light in the gray
Before the hammer comes to take the shape away
Yeah, we’re just echoes in a hollow hall
Architects of the graceful fall.
[Bridge- Emotional vocal belt, starting low and gritty, ending in a high-register fry scream]
Am I the artisan? (Or just the debris?)
Am I the lock? (Or am I the key?)
The glass is cooling... it’s turning to stone
I’ve never felt more solid... or more alone!
STAY IN THE FIRE.
[Instrumental Breakdown- massive, chromatic "sludge-thrash" riff. Half-time drums. A wah-drenched guitar solo that starts bluesy and melodic like Jerry Cantrell, then accelerates into Kirk Hammett-style shredding.]
[Outro / Final Chorus- Wall of sound. Layered vocal harmonies. The tempo slows back down to a crushing, melodic stomp.]
Break the mold... (Let it run)
Staring down the sun... (What have I done?)
We’re beautiful and brittle...
[Music cuts to just a clean, chorused guitar and a single vocal line]
Yeah, we’re just echoes in a hollow hall...
Watching the glass begin to crawl…
[Screamed]
YEAH THE BLOOD-STAINED GLASS
YEAH THE BLOOD STAINED GLASS
STAINED GLASS, STAINED GLASS
THE BLOOD
STAINED
GLASS!
Atlantica
