[Verse 1]
I remember the hum of the island below,
the bright, ripened scent of the winds I would sow.
Fruit-laden pillars once fed my ascent,
their sweetness the fuel of the power I spent.

[Pre-Chorus]
Now the altars lie quiet, the colors turned pale—
but the pulse of the island still calls through the veil.

[Chorus]
I rise where the orchards once shimmered in gold,
from seeds of devotion the islanders rolled.
No crown to define me, no title to claim—
I answer the fruit and the storm by my name.

[Verse 2]
I guarded their harvest, I ruled with my bite,
a balance of shelter and terrible might.
But ages decay what the storms do not spare;
the offerings crumble, yet I’m still aware.

[Pre-Chorus]
Through branches and ruins the power returns—
I taste it in breezes, in blossoms that burn.

[Chorus]
I rise where the orchards once shimmered in gold,
from seeds of devotion the islanders rolled.
No crown to define me, no title to claim—
I answer the fruit and the storm by my name.

[Bridge]
Let the juice of the island awaken my core,
its tang on the air just as vivid before.
I am shaped by the harvest, the ritual, the land—
reborn by the hands that once feared my command.

[Final Chorus]
I rise where the orchards once shimmered in gold,
from seeds of devotion the islanders rolled.
Call me by offering, by thunder, by flame—
the fruit of the island remembers my name.

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