[Verse 1] Stake in the ground, chain round his chest, Macbeth's out of exits, out of guesses to best. "They have tied me to a stake, I cannot fly," bear-like means chained up while the dogs circle by — that's the old sport, bait and iron and roar, hounds sent in snarling, no door, no shore. He says, "But bear-like I must fight the course" — cornered still swinging, still trusting the source. [Chorus] Bear-like, he fights the course, leaning on a promise he can't take back to source. The witches' words are armor, thin as frost on a stone — courage still burning, but the courage ain't his own. [Verse 2] Young Siward steps up, bright name, braver face, asks the tyrant's title, gets death for the space. Macbeth cuts him down, doesn't blink, doesn't pause, then laughs like thunder at the oldest of flaws: "Thou wast born of woman" — so the blade finds its mark, but the prophecy's shield keeps him lit in the dark. He thinks no sword born natural can finish his song — remember that riddle, 'cause it won't last long. [Chorus] Bear-like, he fights the course, leaning on a promise he can't take back to source. The witches' words are armor, thin as frost on a stone — courage still burning, but the courage ain't his own. [Verse 3] Meanwhile Macduff walks the smoke alone, steps past the kerns — the hired hands, not his own fight to own. Staves are the spears that the paid men hold, but Macduff wants the king, not soldiers bought and sold. He shouts through the haze, raw grief in his throat: "Tyrant, show thy face!" — hear the ache in that note. "My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still" — not glory he's chasing, just a debt to fulfill. [Verse 4] Old Siward tells Malcolm the castle's gone quiet, "render'd" means surrendered — no more riot. Many of Macbeth's men switched sides in the fray, traded their banners before the end of the day. The walls gave up easy, the loyalty thinned, while out on the field the real reckoning begins. [Bridge] One man trusts a riddle wrapped in fog and in rhyme, one man hunts a debt that's older than time. Both of them walking toward the very same hour — courage and vengeance closing in like a tower. [Chorus] Bear-like, he fights the course, leaning on a promise he can't take back to source. The witches' words are armor, thin as frost on a stone — courage still burning, but the courage ain't his own. [Outro] Chained to the stake, still swinging his name, the trick in the prophecy lighting his flame — soon enough, Macduff will answer the call, and the riddle will crack like the castle wall.
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