Ash From the Anchor

[Verse 1]
I wore that weight
Like a second skin
Every breath
A bargain
Every step
Thin ice
Kept all my hurt
Folded into corners
Of a room in my chest
I never let you see inside
[Pre-Chorus]
But the ghosts got tired
Of haunting the same old hall
And the cracks in the mirror
Became a doorway
Not a wall
[Chorus]
I am not your wound anymore
I walked out the fire
Left the ash on the floor
Every scar on my body
A line in the creed
I burned through the longing
Now I’m learning to breathe
I am not your wound
I am finally free
[Verse 2]
There was a dawn
That didn’t ask permission
Just climbed the blinds
And touched my face
I felt the pull
Of an unnamed distance
And for once
I didn’t flinch
When I heard my own name
[Pre-Chorus]
All the chains felt hollow
Every link just air
I stepped through the silence
Found myself already there
[Chorus]
I am not your wound anymore
I walked out the fire
Left the ash on the floor
Every scar on my body
A line in the creed
I buried the sorrow
Now I’m built on the seed
I am not your wound
I am finally free
[Bridge]
I forgive what I can
Let the rest stay gone
Laid grief in the ground
Now I stand on that soil (oh)
If my hands still tremble
They tremble with life
Not fear
Not shame
Just blood in its rightful riot
[Chorus]
I am not your wound anymore
I walked out the fire
Left the ash on the floor
Every scar on my body
A line I believed
I rise from the ruin
With a furious peace
I am not your wound
I am finally free
[Outro]
Ash from the anchor
Blown from my tongue
I speak like a future
Not a funeral song

Brooding, cinematic alt-metal in the Sleep Token vein: tom-heavy, tribal drums and detuned guitars that bloom from delicate cleans to massive walls of sound. Male vocals start hushed and almost spoken, then rise into soaring, layered harmonies on the hook. Piano doubles the vocal on key phrases; ambient pads swell into a thunderous, syncopated climax before dropping back to intimate, reverb-soaked minimalism at the end., sleep