Agalloch - Fire Above_ Ice Below.mp3

Acoustic 

Copyright Control 2024 ©️

Copyright Control ©️ 2025
Written and performed 
by Stephen Francis

Refugee Song (acoustic)

Mustang Drive Music
Produced with Axel Ives, SUNO
Lyrics by Mustang Drive
2025 
Title: The Keeper of Lost Things (A Nocturne)

[Verse 1]
Rain on the corrugated iron hums a lullaby of rust and decay.
He moves through shadows, a silhouette against the bruised twilight of the bay.
Fingers trace the chipped porcelain doll, its vacant stare a silent plea.
Another fragment washed ashore, surrendered by the restless sea.

[Verse 2]
He doesn't ask their histories, the hands that held, the tears that fell.
He simply catalogs their absence, within this weathered, salt-stained shell.
A tarnished locket whispers secrets, a single glove, a faded blue.
Each object hums with a forgotten life, a story whispered, stark and true.

[Chorus]
He is the keeper of lost things, the curator of what remains.
A silent witness to departures, etched in buttons, knots, and stains.
In the quiet rhythm of the tide, he finds a solace deep and vast.
Piecing together fractured moments, echoes of futures that couldn't last.

[Verse 3]
Tonight, a child's wooden soldier, missing half an arm, a painted grin.
Reminds him of a distant summer, a laughter swallowed by the din.
He places it beside a sea-worn comb, its teeth still holding strands of gold.
A fleeting tapestry of strangers, stories silently unfold.

[Bridge]
The gulls cry out a mournful cadence, as the moon unveils a silver track.
He feels the weight of these abandoned relics, a burden he can't turn back.
For in each shard, each broken trinket, a piece of someone lingers near.
And his solitary vigil holds them safe, banishing the rising fear.

[Chorus]
He is the keeper of lost things, the curator of what remains.
A silent witness to departures, etched in buttons, knots, and stains.
In the quiet rhythm of the tide, he finds a solace deep and vast.
Piecing together fractured moments, echoes of futures that couldn't last.

[Outro]
The dawn will break, the tide will turn, bringing more secrets to his door.
And he will gather them with gentle hands, adding to his silent, precious store.
The keeper of lost things, on the edge of the world, where memories never cease.
A nocturne played on forgotten objects, a fragile symphony of peace.

Sinking Ships

Trees of Eternity

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