[pre-intro]
You wake where time drags its feet, the air hangs thick,
A world not yours, yet trembling at your step.
Frozen rivers once kissed by sun now whisper only frost,
Fields silent, yet humming with a memory of motion.
[intro]
The people linger, unaging, unbowed,
Their hearts beat slow in the cage of sloth.
A blessing to them, a prison to you,
For here, motion is forgotten, and stillness rules.
[Verse]
And yet, one remains — the young queen, unnamed,
Eyes heavy with kingdoms forgotten by time.
Her throne a fragile heart, her gaze a spark,
While advisors crumble to despair,
Pillars of loyalty fallen in the hush of eternity.
[Bridge]
And now, you arrive, unbound by lethargy,
Each step a ripple through frozen fabric.
Paths carve themselves beneath your feet, uncertain, alive, costly.
Move with care — even the still may awaken.
[pre-chorus]
Walk the palace halls, find heroism in her gaze.
Or wander silent streets where whispers linger, frost-bound truths.
Step through the church, devotion and surrender entwined.
Seek the hidden gathering, soft voices praising ease.
Beyond the peaks, where Sloth herself reclines,
Eternal currents of stillness bend beneath her breath.
[Chorus]
Palace towers flicker with faint light, banners like shadows,
The village below frozen in mid-motion,
Corners hold hints of laughter, whispers of lives half-lived.
The church spires reach skyward, frozen fingers,
A place where devotion battles inertia’s pull.
[violin solo]
Voices hum in reverent ease, weaving cadences of sloth,
Promises of rest, respect, the lure of stillness.
Mountains pierce clouds, untouched by ambition,
Where Sloth dreams herself, shaping lands with breath.
The world watches. It waits. It breathes.
[Male vocal]
Silent snow drifts, carrying secrets of motion,
Every step you take, a story, a tremor of life.
The queen’s eyes meet yours, a spark against despair,
Hope flickers where stillness dominates.
[Final chorus]
Move with care, but move.
Paths of frost will shift beneath your courage.
Palace, village, church, gathering, peaks —
All bend to the pulse you bring.
The world of Idoria listens, waits,
But now — it knows — motion is possible.
[outro]
Time exhales. Snow drifts. Shadows sigh.
You are the ripple, the spark, the breath in the land of stillness.
