Egil’s Voice

The Story:

Egil’s Voice is rooted in the worldview of the Icelandic sagas, and most directly in Egil’s Saga.  The saga reminded me of my own life, my own failures and successes.  It is written from within that moral landscape, an illustration of what was and a reminder for what is today.  The song illustrates that point where speech has limits and action completes what words cannot.  In the sagas, honor is not pride or reputation.  It is accountability.  Every choice carries a cost, every act leaves a mark, and no one escapes consequence.  Including the righteous.

This song inhabits the moment of reckoning, when all debts are visible and no further argument is possible.  There is no mercy to bargain for, no crowd to absorb the blame, no excuse that survives the cold.  Violence is never random here it answers a call already made.  The verdict is not forgiveness or punishment, but clarity.  What was done returns, shaped exactly as it was given.

Egil’s Voice does not ask who is right.  It shows what happens next.  It is the sound of a man standing inside his own choices, owning them fully, knowing that to act is to agree to the cost.  Not “what should be.”  Only what is.

The Lyrics:

When words ran out of power,

Only the ground remained.

 

There comes a time when speech breaks down,

And hands must finish truth.

No mercy left to bargain with,

No shield for what you choose.

 

Violence was never random here,

It answered when it came.

The sword did not ask why it swung,

It only spoke my name.

 

I have spilled blood that called for blood,

And watched the cost divide.

Each payment made in honest coin,

Still left another side.

 

Honor was not pride or praise,

It was the weight I bore.

To stand inside the wreckage left,

And never claim much more.

 

Fate does not pardon shaking hands.

It only waits them out.

 

There comes a time when speech breaks down,

And fate steps into view.

No council left to share the blame,

No crowd to stand with you.

 

The verdict wasn’t mercy given,

Nor punishment decreed.

It was the shape of what I’d done,

Returning back to me...

No excuse stands in the snow.

Where blood is spilled, the land will know.

 

I owned my choices.

And they owned me.

This was the contract.

This was the fee.