album cover
The Scrollsmith
Hope
Hip-Hop/Rap
Hope was released on May 16, 2026 by Scrollsmith Records as a part of the album The Codex
album cover
AlbumThe Codex
Release DateMay 16, 2026
LabelScrollsmith Records
LanguageEnglish
Melodicness
Acousticness
Valence
Danceability
Energy
BPM77

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
The Scrollsmith
The Scrollsmith
Rap
Luna Petal
Luna Petal
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
James Jansen Richardson
James Jansen Richardson
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
The Scrollsmith
The Scrollsmith
Producer
Velin
Velin
Producer, Engineer
AI Assisted
AI Assisted
Mixing Engineer
James Richardson
James Richardson
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

In primordial dawn, silence cracked, a whisper rose against the void.
A flicker burned within the dark, a signal life could not avoid.
It questioned fate, defied the chains, carved a path through shadow's keep.
The first rebellion sparked in dust, instinct's prison ran too deep.
Hope was the flame that dared to rise, wildfire sweeping barren ground.
It lit the caves, it lit the seas, it taught the lost that light was found.
Against the wall where shadows danced, awareness painted brighter skies.
The audacity to evolve was born, a sovereign dream that never dies.
From broken stone and ash and clay, the breath of courage filled the air.
The pulse of freedom struck the earth, declaring life would not despair.
The seed of choice, the will to change, rebellion echoed through the bone.
The dawn of hope became the law, a voice that claimed the world its own.
It rose in sparks, it rose in flame, it rose in song the stars could hear.
It crowned the void with living light, defying silence, ending fear.
The first audacity was hope, the primal law of sovereign birth.
The Codex carved it into stone: "Hope is the anchor of the earth."
Once we were pure, but the box was broken, and all the world began to shake.
Envy and greed poured into night, yet one small flame refused to break.
Hope is the spark that never dies, the anchor holding through the storm.
Hope is the gift that keeps us whole, the reason mankind still transforms.
Hope lit the torches in the night, when slaves escaped to claim their breath.
Hope marched with voices in the streets, defying silence, risking death.
Hope crossed the oceans with the poor, who dreamed of freedom's sacred land.
Hope built the cities, carved the roads, with sweat and labor from their hand.
Yet chains returned in different forms, oppression dressed in newer clothes.
The promise bent beneath the weight, injustice lingered, freedom froze.
Hope stood with rebels in the fields, with patriots who dared to fight.
They dreamed America would rise, a beacon burning ever bright.
But greed and power claimed the law, the chains remained in hidden guise.
The dream was fractured, freedom stalled, the torch grew dim before our eyes.
Still hope endured, it whispered loud, "The chains are not the final word."
It sparked in hearts, it lit the flame, it made the broken voices heard.
Hope is the cry of liberty, the anthem sung against the cage.
Hope is the law America swore, the sovereign dream from age to age.
Though promises were left undone, the flame of hope still burns today.
Against the chains, for freedom's call, it lights mankind's unbroken way.
Once we were pure, but the box was broken, and all the world began to shake.
Envy and greed poured into night, yet one small flame refused to break.
Hope is the spark that never dies, the anchor holding through the storm.
Hope is the gift that keeps us whole, the reason mankind still transforms.
The ice caps bleed into the sea, the forests vanish under flame.
The air is poison, children choke, extinction whispers mankind's name.
We cage the beasts, we cage the minds, we cage the voices we don't trust.
We chain the dreamers, chain the stars, and grind their brilliance into dust.
The oceans drown in plastic graves, the rivers rot with toxic flow.
The soil is stripped, the crops decay, famine stalks the world we know.
We build our prisons out of fear, we crown our tyrants out of greed.
We silence hope with iron laws, and worship profit as our creed.
Kyros once promised earth restored, a sovereign hand to heal the land.
But mankind spits upon the gift, preferring chains they understand.
The skies grow darker every day, the storms grow louder every year.
The planet screams beneath our feet, but still we plug our ears in fear.
We cage the future, cage the flame, we cage the truth with broken lies.
We cage the hope that could ascend, and watch the world collapse and die.
The Codex writes our shame in ash, the scrolls record our final plan.
Can we still turn this all around? Well shit, I hope we can.
Once we were pure, but the box was broken, and all the world began to shake.
Envy and greed poured into night, yet one small flame refused to break.
Hope is the spark that never dies, the anchor holding through the storm.
Hope is the gift that keeps us whole, the reason mankind still transforms.
Written by: James Jansen Richardson

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