[Verse 1]
He carries oceans where most people carry stone,
Feels the weather of a room the moment he walks in alone,
A mind that moves in tides, not lines — poetic, deep, and wide,
He speaks in what is felt before the words have room to hide,
The world sees calm, it doesn't see the undertow below,
A soul this full was built to hold what others fear to know

[PreChorus]
He came in like the winter tide, cold stars and ancient fire,
A dreamer forged in discipline, a visionary for hire

[Chorus]
Born where the fog meets frozen ground,
A quiet force with a deafening sound,
The runes were carved before his birth,
He carries something old as earth

[Verse 2]
He loves the way the mountains love — without needing to explain,
Patient, rooted, slow to trust, but steady in the rain,
Once he gives his heart it's given whole, not piece by piece or part,
There's a hall of ancient loyalty built somewhere in his heart,
He longs for something tangible — a hand, a hearth, a home,
The depth he offers others is the depth he needs to own

[PreChorus]
He's fought a hundred silent wars and won them all alone,
But every scar he's carried has become a cornerstone

[Chorus]
Born where the fog meets frozen ground,
A quiet force with a deafening sound,
The runes were carved before his birth,
He carries something old as earth

[Verse 3]
There's a wound inside the root of him, a childhood left unsteady,
A boy who learned to read the room before the room was ready,
He built his worth with both bare hands on ground that used to shake,
And every wall he ever raised was also his mistake,
But walls can be a doorway when you finally face the frame,
The strongest thing he'll ever do is call himself by name

[PreChorus]
The stars aligned with purpose when they wrote him into being,
There's a compass in his chest that keeps on pointing toward his meaning

[Chorus]
Born where the fog meets frozen ground,
A quiet force with a deafening sound,
The runes were carved before his birth,
He carries something old as earth

[Bridge]
He doesn't have to earn the right to rest inside his own skin,
The tide was always in his favor, let the light come in,
What he calls his restlessness the cosmos calls his gift,
He is the storm and the stillness and the ground beneath the drift

[Outro]
Let the old songs carry him across the frozen sea,
He was written in the stars before he learned to breathe,
He is enough — he always was — exactly as he stands,
The whole of who he is was always in his hands