[Opening – Crickets, Frogs, Water Movement]
[Sound of slow paddle through swamp water]
[Thunder far away]
Down here…
the water remember everything.
⸻
[Low blues guitar enters softly]
Every prayer whispered in candlelight.
Every body buried beneath the mud.
Every sin…
every secret…
every soul swallowed by the swamp.
⸻
[Soft Organ Begins]
Louisiana got ghosts in her lungs.
You can hear ‘em in the brass bands.
In the church mothers hummin’ through grief.
In the levees creakin’ at night.
In the Spanish moss hangin’ like judgment from the trees.
⸻
[Funeral trumpet echoes faintly]
Folks think the bayou sleep.
Nah…
it watch.
⸻
[Drums Enter Slowly Like a Heartbeat]
It watched runaway slaves disappear into the marsh and become legends.
Watched old spirituals rise outta pain.
Watched men gamble they souls on Bourbon Street.
Watched preachers and hustlers share the same pews on Sunday morning.
⸻
[Thunder closer now]
Down here…
religion and rhythm always danced together.
Baptism water.
Black magic whispers.
Blues guitars cryin’ like grieving mothers.
Hoodoo oils beside family Bibles.
⸻
[Choir Hums Underneath]
Ain’t no clean lines in the South.
Just heat.
Temptation.
Survival.
And spirits that refuse to die.
⸻
[Massive Bass Rumble]
This ain’t an album about evil.
This is an album about the shadows people carry.
The ghosts we inherit.
The prayers we whisper when nobody lookin’.
⸻
[Music Begins Swelling]
Welcome to the swamp.
Where the nights sweat.
The dead still sing.
And the water…
remember your name.
