(Verse 1 — folky, low)

Kettle sings on the old wood stove, dawn carves the sky in tin,

Porcelain altar, two chipped mugs, raise the ritual within.

You grind the night between your fingers, whole beans and memory,

The house exhales a history of quiet wars and reveries.

(Pre-Chorus — building)

I scrape the dark from under my nails, light the morning like a fuse,

Every sip’s a verdict, every breath a bruise.

(Chorus — hard, full-throttle)

Steam and thunder, wake the sleeping bones,

Black river pouring fire down my throat, calling me home.

Steam and thunder, break the fragile hush,

Bitter salvation in my hands, I drink until it floods.

(Verse 2 — folky with edge)

We carved our names on the coffee tin, promises in rust,

Your laugh still lives in the silver spoon, in the steam and in the dust.

There’s love in the drip and the slow, steady drip of the night,

A ledger of the lonely, where the small things keep their fight.

(Pre-Chorus — taut)

I pull the pulse like a lever, catch the spark before it dies,

Wake the ghosts with a filter of light and lies.

(Chorus — harder)

Steam and thunder, wake the sleeping bones,

Black river pouring fire down my throat, calling me home.

Steam and thunder, tear the curtains down,

Bitter salvation in my hands — I’m king without a crown.

(Bridge — post-rock build, repetitive mantra)

I drink the dark until it speaks my name,

I drink the dark until it calls my pain.

(Repeat, swelling)

Steam and thunder, steam and thunder, steam and thunder...

(Instrumental — jagged hard-rock guitar solo lifting into a wide reverb-drenched post-rock swell)

(Verse 3 — quiet, confessional folk)

Afternoon creeps like a long exhale, cup cools on the sill,

I trace your shadow in the steam, wonder if the world stands still.

Coffee grounds like secrets, clinging to the bottom of the tin,

I read the lines like scripture — where you end and I begin.

(Chorus — cathartic, full band)

Steam and thunder, wake the sleeping bones,

Black river pouring fire down my throat, calling me home.

Steam and thunder, let the morning roar,

Bitter salvation in my hands — give me one more pour.

(Outro — soft folk fade)

Kettle whispers, kitchen light, a small hymn for the undone,

Steam rises like a memory — the day begins, the day’s begun.

Steam and thunder, hush at last,

Cup cooled down on the counter — ashes of the past.