Tarot · Track 11 · middle
Justice
RWS: a crowned figure between two pillars, an upright sword in one hand, level scales in the other, a red robe, a purple veil behind. Keywords: truth, balance, consequence, the cut that is fair, cause meeting its effect.
No audio yet — generation pending.
Lyrics
[Intro] I sit between the pillars of the court. The purple veil is drawn against the wind. [Verse 1] I wear the crimson heavy on the bone. My left hand holds the pans of brass and thread. Every scattered seed that you have sown, Every quiet word you left unsaid, Has settled on the copper, catching light. The needle shivers, seeking out the center. [Chorus] Here is the consequence, here is the line. The sword points upward, splitting the divine. I do not weigh the weather or the flaw, I only mirror everything you drew. The cut is perfectly symmetrical and raw— And what is fair is returning to you. [Verse 2] Look at the steel gripped steady in my right. It does not lean to mercy or to wrath. The brain keeps building ledgers in the night, But out here on the stone, there is just the path. Bring me the forty grains of hollow ash You carried in your pocket for a year. The scale will dip, the quiet metal clash, And what you owe will suddenly be clear. [Chorus] Here is the consequence, here is the line. The sword points upward, splitting the divine. I do not weigh the weather or the flaw, I only mirror everything you drew. The cut is perfectly symmetrical and raw— And what is fair is returning to you. [Bridge] You begged for truth. Now stand before the blade. It has no edge for anger, none for grief. It only separates the light from shade, And severs you from tangled up belief. Do not look away from what you made. The fabric of the veil behind me hides what happens next. [Chorus] Here is the consequence, here is the line. The sword points upward, splitting the divine. I do not weigh the weather or the flaw, I only mirror everything you drew. The cut is perfectly symmetrical and raw— And what is fair is returning to you. [Outro] The pans are level now. The red robe settles on the stone. The blade is completely upright. Take what is yours. Take what is yours.