What I Was Afraid Of · Track 84 · middle
Ballista
Ballista — Ancient/Roman torsion catapult. Register: ancient. This song is sung BY this weapon, in first person, about the one thing IT was afraid of. Find the fear that is true of this specific object, not a generic one.
No audio yet — generation pending.
Lyrics
[Intro] [Verse 1] My skeins are braided from slaughter and mane, Slathered in fat against the damp of the earth. You crank the windlass through the mud and the rain, Calculating exactly what a fortress is worth. 44 clicks of the bronze-cast gear. The pawl drops heavy, locking the teeth. I am a geometry of timber and fear, Anchored in the trench with the stones underneath. [Verse 2] Your hand finds the trigger before your eye checks the mark, My torsion is already mapped in your spine. We are one locked muscle, silent and stark, Waiting for the centurion to give us the sign. I hold the rock. I hold the math. I hold the apex of the terrible path. [Chorus] But I am afraid of the hold. I am terrified of the wait. The shuddering pitch of the frame. Do not make me carry the breath before death, Do not leave me locked at the gate. If the horn blows for truce, if a white flag is tossed, How do you unwind this terrible cost? I was made for the snap, not the strain. I cannot be walked backward again. [Verse 3] We sit on the ridge for an hour, for two. The enemy envoy comes out of the gate. The sinew is screaming, it's biting the glue, I am shivering blind under all of the weight. Please. Don't make me stand down. If I don't break the wall, I will break my own spine. I am twisted too tight for the peace of this town. [Chorus] I am afraid of the hold. I am terrified of the wait. The shuddering pitch of the frame. Do not make me carry the breath before death, Do not leave me locked at the gate. If the horn blows for truce, if a white flag is tossed, How do you unwind this terrible cost? I was made for the snap, not the strain. I cannot be walked backward again. [Bridge] I don't care about the empire. I don't care about the gold. I just want the violence I was promised to hold. To throw all this energy out of my chest, To empty the wood and finally rest. [Outro] The envoy bows. You reach for the crank. To let me down gently. To empty the bank. I don't want to go slack. Don't roll me back. Don't roll me back. Just leave me the ache.