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Peat-Smoke & Starlit Sky by Christopher

SongGPT
Peat-Smoke & Starlit Sky by Christopher - Celtic Folk-Hop Fusion music cover art

Peat-Smoke & Starlit Sky

Celtic Folk-Hop Fusion

0:003:39
Lyrics
Description
Come sit close, my great-great-granddaughter, by the embers and the tin light.
I'll tell you of one winter's night down by the River Cay.
My breath like ghosts of white, I stitched my coat with river thread,
The seam I kept from salt and cold, a brass pocket-watch with a cracked glass.
It stopped at dawn but kept my hands bold, I stood beside the factory shed,
Counted rivets, learned to keep my word, I traded whole afternoons for a loaf,
Mended a neighbor's shoe and heard the peat-smoke climb,
The valley, the kettle sing, the whistle and the cart.
In every small repair I kept a map of how to hold a breaking heart.
He hums under his word, soft as peat-smoke, mow creep.
Peat-smoke to starlit sky, we bloom, we rise.
Peat-smoke to starlit sky, we bloom, we rise.
I learned to trace your hands in the morning light, the calluses like tiny maps.
I walked where standing stones keep secrets, leather pressed into my laps.
Laps peat-smoke on my tongue, salt on my knees, lullabies braided in the rain.
The choir sang in modal hush, Dorian threads through every refrain.
I kept a smolten compass under my pillow, a ribbon from your coat.
I felt the pulsing of your midnight work, the hush before you spoke.
Your stories were a lantern swinging, I followed past where courage bled.
From your pockets I took lessened linen, stitched the wound, not hide the thread.
The harp plucks once, the baron taps, a heartbeat grows into a clock.
A lullaby flips to a rimshot, and the air turns bright with spoken rock.
Listen, the choir folds, the pumps of a footstep, then a beat.
I take the lullaby and crack it open, make the rhythm with my feet.
Lesson one, measure loss with craft, not shame.
Plant a seed, tend the flame, turn the ash into a doorway.
Keep your honor, not your blame.
Lesson two, count your days in stories told, not coin in a coal tin box.
Save the warmth, spend the song, break the ice and lock the locks.
Lesson three, carry salt for bread, not wait for blame.
Wash it, then you rise, fold the sorrow into storylines.
Stitch the seams where courage lies.
Lesson four, leave a light on for the ones who wander home at night.
Teach them how to read the stars by peat-smoke's faint and faithful light.
Hold the pocket watch, but don't live by the tick.
Let the heart give time its rhyme, work the hands, mend the seams.
We turn the small into the sublime.
Yo, I learned to rap slow like the rivers flow.
One.
One.
One.
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