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Wolf at the Iron Gate by NEP

SongGPT
Wolf at the Iron Gate by NEP - Bardic Folk music cover art

Wolf at the Iron Gate

Bardic Folk

0:004:38
Lyrics
Description
Hear now the road song of a northern hand, A wolf with a ledger, a map of every land.
Bard will tell if you ask, and the hearth will nod.
She counts the coins, she counts the names, she walks the sun.
Along the frost where lanterns choke, a rusted sign, a broken spoke.
She walks with one white strand of fur, caught in the wind, slow joke.
Paranoia like a second cloak, test set soft as winter smoke.
On a rusted bridge she let a fist fall, watched how body and promise broke.
Wolf at the iron gate— Howl low, keep the wolves at bay.
Wolf at the iron gate— Count the names, count the pain.
She keeps receipts of kindness given, folded in pockets marked and riven.
A scratch for every mercy missed, a coin for every dead unforgiven.
She pushes hands into the fire, to fear which ones will not retreat.
Then offers up her blanket at the end of a battered street.
Did she break you to mend you? Did she learn or did she bend you?
She slapped the sleep from danger, did she teach you danger's measure?
Wolf at the iron gate— Howl low, keep the wolves at bay.
Wolf at the iron gate— Count the names, count the pain.
Flashbacks like alley ghosts, sirens braided into dreams.
Guilt, a pocket full of glass that catches silver moonlight seams.
She bears wolf marks along her wrist, a promise carved in skin.
A covenant of pressure, of the push and of the wind.
There was a night of rain and ropes, a name left bleeding on the ropes.
She watched a friend turn tail and learned how quickly trust elopes.
She struck the bell to wake the sloth, then the state to mend the weak.
She hurts to teach, she guards with nails, she hums the ration creed.
Wolf at the iron gate— Howl low, keep the wolves at bay.
Wolf at the iron gate— Count the names, count the pain.
Wolf at the iron gate— Howl low, stay and hold the line.
Wolf at the iron gate— Ledger kept, heart half mine.
So sing it soft by tavern light, a thorn for wrong, a hand to fight.
A wolf that tests to see who stays, a guard who trades in nights and days.
Bard will tell and mothers know, the north winds bring her tail and wait.
She counts the coins, she counts the names, the wolf at the iron gate.
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