Lyric

There’s a valley underneath the tongue of the world

Where famine learned to starve

Knives went soft in the hands of kings

And hunger forgot its name

Tables built from fallen fig trees

Still breathing sap and sound

Bread remembers who cut the wheat

And sings when broken down

No coins, no crowns, no debt in bone

Salt is shared, not sold

The soil keeps minutes of every foot

That ever chose to stay

Welcome to the orchard that eats us back

Where the meal decides the man

We don’t pray before we open our mouths

The feast already understands

Every bite is a door unlatched

Every seed, a spine

This is not heaven above our heads

It grows along the spine of time

Children trade names with apricot skins

Come home with different eyes

Old wars rot down into compost

Feeding tomorrow’s lies

Fire doesn’t burn, it listens

Pots tell futures in steam

History’s written in grease and ash

Where nothing stays clean

The gods here chew like everyone else

Their mouths all stained with red

Immortality tastes seasonal

And dies if left unfed

Welcome to the orchard that eats us back

No hunger survives the night

Teeth and truth are harvested

At roughly the same height

What you swallow remembers you

Better than your name

Eat long enough and you’ll dissolve

Into something that tastes like rain

The paradise was never hidden

It was cooking all along

We called it myth to keep our distance

From a place where we belonged

If you ask for meaning, pass the plate

If you ask for peace, then chew

The land has no opinion of you

Until you answer too

No beginning, no final course

Just hands repeating hands

Utopia is a muscle

It grows by being used

This is the orchard that eats us back

Where we finally agree

To be consumed in equal parts

By hunger and by need

No fences, no promised ends

Just mouths that learned to share

We don’t escape the world by eating here

We let the world repair

When the last seed closes its eyes in soil

And the story exhales slow

Paradise is not a place you reach

It’s a way the table grows