Where Home Waits ~ Lyrics ~ Mobius∆Tripz /AscenzIon

They gather where the blankets hold my shape,

paws folded into the hollow I leave behind.
One at the foot like a quiet guard,
one at the pillow breathing soft and slow,
one listening for my steps in the hall
as if the house itself depends on them.

To them
I am the door that closes against the night.
I am the steady warmth beneath their ribs.
I am the place the wandering ends.

They wait because I am Home.

And yet I linger awake in the dim light,
restless,
heart pacing farther than my body ever travels.

Because there is one
whose absence hums inside my chest
like an unfinished chord.

The bed is full of fur and breathing,
yet a space remains
no animal can fill.

They wait for me
certain I will return.

I wait for the one I love
with that same certainty —
or at least I try to.

To them,
I am Home.

To me,
that one is Home.

So I move between these two truths:
guardian and guarded,
anchor and adrift,
the place returned to
and the one still waiting.

They sleep when I lie down.

I do not fully sleep
until Home
comes back to me.

________________________________________________

Style:

AscenzIon is a multi-genre band whose country sound delivers warm front-porch grit with steel guitar, fiddle, organ swells, steady backbeat, rich harmonies, and dry baritone vocals, blending outlaw honesty, gospel undertones, and modern Americana restraint.
In its country form, the band balances smokehouse warmth with stripped-down realism—rolling acoustic rhythm, subtle electric edge, and communal harmony hooks. Storytelling comes first, letting dry humor sit naturally inside serious themes shaped by fire, faith, work, and weather.

“Where Home Waits” is a slow-burning country ballad built on fingerpicked acoustic guitar and brushed snare heartbeat, with pedal steel sighs and soft piano swells. The baritone vocal stays restrained and weathered, carrying quiet devotion and longing. The arrangement grows gently, never explosive—intimate, faithful, and steady as a porch light left on.

Iron, Shine & Smoke ~ Country Seasoning Album ~ AscenzIon

Granddaddy kept a Winchester over the door

Said it weren’t for trouble, just in case there’s more

Copper still hummin’ down by the creek

Sugar in the mash and the hush talkin’ low and sweet

Tin roof rattlin’ in a summer storm
Jar on the table keepin’ spirits warm
Smoke drift slow from a rolled-up leaf
Ain’t no rush when you live out deep

Iron, shine, and smoke
Just the way the backwoods cope
A little spark and a little heat
Ain’t nothin’ here that ain’t been spoke
We don’t preach, we don’t boast
We just mind our own
Iron, shine, and smoke

Boot heel grindin’ red clay dust
Hand on the wheel and a little bit of trust
Sheriff waves but he knows the score
Same church pew since ’84

Flame licks high in a barrel drum
Sweet corn liquor when the night air hums
Stars hang low like they’re leanin’ in
Hear that old screen door creak again

Iron, shine, and smoke
Just the way the backwoods cope
Smoke in the pines and steel on oak
Some call it sin, some call it folk
We don’t shout, we don’t poke
We just let it roll
Iron, shine, and smoke

Some folks read it in a magazine
We just live what’s always been
If the world gets loud, we let it pass
Got iron in hand and jars in glass

Iron, shine, and smoke
A little wild, a little slow
From the hills to the river bend
What we were is what we tend
You don’t fake this code
Iron, shine, and smoke

_____________

Granddaddy kept a Winchester over the door,

Said it weren’t for trouble, just in case there’s more

Copper still hummin’ down by the creek
Sugar in the mash and the hush talkin’ low and sweet

Tin roof rattlin’ in a summer storm
Jar on the table keepin’ spirits warm
Smoke drift slow from a rolled-up leaf
Ain’t no rush when you live out deep

Iron, shine, and smoke
Just the way the backwoods cope
A little spark and a little heat
Ain’t nothin’ here that ain’t been spoke
We don’t preach, we don’t boast
We just mind our own
Iron, shine, and smoke

Boot heel grindin’ red clay dust
Hand on the wheel and a little bit of trust
Sheriff waves but he knows the score
Same church pew since ’84

Flame licks high in a barrel drum
Sweet corn liquor when the night air hums
Stars hang low like they’re leanin’ in
Hear that old screen door creak again

Iron, shine, and smoke
Just the way the backwoods cope
Smoke in the pines and steel on oak
Some call it sin, some call it folk
We don’t shout, we don’t poke
We just let it roll
Iron, shine, and smoke

Some folks read it in a magazine
We just live what’s always been
If the world gets loud, we let it pass
Got iron in hand and jars in glass

Iron, shine, and smoke
A little wild, a little slow
From the hills to the river bend
What we were is what we tend
You don’t fake this code
Iron, shine, and smoke

________________________________________________

30-Word Band Sound Description (Standard Intro Block):

Country Ascension delivers warm front-porch grit with steel guitar, fiddle, organ swells, steady backbeat, rich harmonies, and dry baritone vocals, blending outlaw honesty, gospel undertones, and modern Americana restraint.

70-Word Band Identity Expansion:

The sound balances smokehouse warmth with unpolished realism—cast iron percussion, rolling acoustic rhythm, subtle electric edge, and harmony hooks that feel communal rather than flashy. Influences echo classic outlaw country, Southern gospel gatherings, and contemporary roots revival, yet remain stripped-down and grounded. Every arrangement supports storytelling first, letting humor sit naturally inside serious themes, where fire, faith, work, and weather shape both melody and message.

Ain't The Quittin' Kind ~ Poetry / Lyrics ~ Mobius∆Tripz/ AscenzIon

He swore on a porch light in July heat
Said forever don’t scare me, it’s just you and me
Had dirt on his boots and a ring in his hand
Said I ain’t the quittin’ kind of man

But the wind changed direction, the fields went dry
Promises faded like an old red sky
It wasn’t the leaving that hurt like hell
It was watching him lie to himself

The betrayal ain’t the leaving
It ain’t the tears on the shelf
It ain’t the door slam closing
Or loving somebody else
It’s when you trade your word for comfort
When the truth gets sold for wealth
The betrayal ain’t me or you
It’s the betrayal of the self

Mama and Daddy made it look easy
Sixty-three years and they still held hands freely
They didn’t run when the rain came down
They stood in the storm and they stood their ground

Now everybody’s chasing something new
Swiping through hearts like they’re passing through
But what’s it worth if you can’t be true
To the one man staring back at you

The betrayal ain’t the fighting
It ain’t asking for help
It ain’t saying I’m broken
Or needing some time to heal yourself
It’s when you walk away from your own reflection
Just to save yourself
The betrayal ain’t loving wrong
It’s the betrayal of the self

I ain’t perfect, I’ve bent before
I’ve stared at an open door
But I’d rather sleep on a lonely bed
Than wake up knowing my word is dead

Yeah the betrayal ain’t the heartbreak
It ain’t being left on the shelf
It ain’t the miles between us
Or loving somebody else
It’s when you trade your soul for easy
When you let your courage melt
The worst damn thing a man can do
Is betray his own damn self

________________________________________________

~ AscenzIon ~ 

AscenzIon is a multi-genre band whose country sound delivers warm front-porch grit with steel guitar, fiddle, organ swells, steady backbeat, rich harmonies, and dry baritone vocals, blending outlaw honesty, gospel undertones, and modern Americana restraint.

In its country form, the band balances smokehouse warmth with stripped-down realism—rolling acoustic rhythm, subtle electric edge, and communal harmony hooks. Storytelling comes first, letting dry humor sit naturally inside serious themes shaped by fire, faith, work, and weather.

“Country Seasoning” is a front-porch anthem built on smoke, fellowship, and slow-cooked truth. Cookout imagery carries a deeper message: character, like barbecue, is formed by time and heat. It celebrates church gatherings, family tables, and strong hearts shaped the long way—earn it, don’t fake it.

Spring A'coming ~ Lyrics / Poetry ~ Mobius∆Tripz / AscenzIon

Versions...

1)

It’s been a hard long dark cold winter
But the shift is coming soon
Spring it wasn’t coming fast enough
This winter near spelled my ruin
Chopping wood and feeding fires
Smoke rising to the moon
Praying for the thaw to break
And green to come in bloom

Chopping wood and loading the stove
Chill cut clean to the bone
Keeping this old cabin warm
Is harder when you’re alone
Wasn’t sure I’d make it through
Food scarce on the table
Snow on the ground wind howling loud
Stock shivering in the stable
But I kept that flame and I kept my Faith
Through every bitter drummin’
Thank God above I’m still standing here
I feel that spring a’coming

Working hard from sunup down
Getting older every day
Time runs faster than it used to
Like the light just slips away
Some nights doubt would whisper low
Cold as frozen rain
But the Good Lord plants a stubborn seed
Deep inside a man through pain

Chopping wood and loading the stove
Chill cut clean to the bone
Keeping this old cabin warm
Is harder when you’re alone
Wasn’t sure I’d make it through
Food scarce on the table
Snow on the ground wind howling loud
Stock shivering in the stable
But I kept that flame and I kept my Faith
Through every bitter drummin’
Thank God above I’m still standing here
I feel that spring a’coming

I see it in the way the creek
Breaks loose beneath the ice
Hear it in the morning birds
Singing soft but twice as bright
Hope rising with the muddy thaw
Life waking from the numb
After every frozen trial
The warmer days will come

Chopping wood but smiling now
Sun warming my skin
Cabin door swung open wide
Let that new day in
Snowmelt running down the hill
Fields humming and thrumming
Hard long winter couldn’t break me down
I knew that spring was coming

2)

It’s been a hard long dark cold winter
Frost creepin’ through the cracks
Wind blowin’ down off that north ridge
With the world all white and black
Choppin’ wood by lantern light
Breath hangin’ in the air
Prayin’ for a sign of green
Some mercy anywhere

Choppin’ wood and loadin’ the stove
Cold cut clean to the bone
Keepin’ this old cabin warm
Ain’t easy all alone
Wasn’t sure I’d see the thaw
With beans left in the sack
Snow piled high round the barnyard gate
And ice on the pasture track
But I kept that fire and I kept my Faith
Through every night so numbin’
Hard times tried but they couldn’t hide
That I felt spring a’coming

Workin’ from the break of dawn
Till the red sun sank out west
Hands all cracked and back bowed low
No time for much rest
Heard that creek start talkin’ soft
Underneath the snow
Like a fiddle string just wakin’ up
Ready for the bow

Choppin’ wood and loadin’ the stove
Cold cut clean to the bone
Keepin’ this old cabin warm
Ain’t easy all alone
Wasn’t sure I’d see the thaw
With beans left in the sack
Snow piled high round the barnyard gate
And ice on the pasture track
But I kept that fire and I kept my Faith
Through every night so numbin’
Thank the Lord I’m standin’ tall
’Cause I see spring a’coming

Robins callin’ from the fence
Sun warm on the tin
Cabin door swung open wide
Let that new day in
Muddy boots and plowin’ time
Fields hummin’ and thrumming
Long dark winter couldn’t hold me down
I knew spring was a’coming

The Long Arc ~ Poetry / Lyrics ~ Mobius∆Tripz

The Long Arc

We were raised in houses
that did not belong to us for long,
on streets where boxes stayed half-packed
and maps were more permanent than walls.

We learned early
that home is not a structure
but a standard.

Our fathers wore stone in their posture
and iron in their silence.
Our mothers carried fire
in steady, unannounced hands.

They had known ration lines
and telegram fears,
knew the taste of scarcity,
knew that comfort is a privilege
and duty is not.

They did not ask to be remembered.
They asked only
that what they built
would stand.

Bridges across cold rivers.
Tunnels beneath restless cities.
Equations written on chalkboards
for boys who would one day command men.

They measured their lives
not in applause
but in load-bearing capacity.

And we,
their sons and daughters,
grew beneath the long shadow of structure —
learning that strength is quiet,
that humility is power restrained,
that you can fight without loving war
and serve without loving glory.

We have watched towers burn.
We have held our breath
for meetings canceled
and planes diverted by grace alone.

We have seen how quickly
the solid can fracture.
How families splinter
when the rock begins to weaken.

And still
the arc holds.

From scarcity to service.
From war to rebuilding.
From father to son.
From one generation’s trial
to another’s reckoning.

The world cycles through its fires.
We are not naïve to that.
But neither are we faithless.

Because we have seen
what principled lives can do.

A bridge outlasting a soldier.
A transit line outlasting a planner.
A lesson outlasting a teacher.
A name carried in the marrow
even when it is not carved in stone.

The long gray line speaks of memory.
We speak of motion.

The long arc
bends through hardship
but it does not break.

It stretches from poverty
to purpose,
from fear
to fortitude,
from one steady hand
to the next.

And though we miss them —
God, how we miss them —
their work is still holding weight.

So we stand.
Not loud.
Not boastful.
But upright.

We are not the monument.
We are the continuation.

And somewhere beyond our sight,
those who built before us
measure the arc
and find it sound.

John Stephen Swygert, MobiusTripz, AscenzIon

The Long Arc V2~ Poetry / Lyrics ~ Mobius∆Tripz

The Long Arc ~ V2

History does not move in straight lines.
It bends.

It bends through famine and fire,
through rising towers and falling ones,
through victory parades
and hospital rooms lit by machines.

Every generation believes
it stands at the edge of collapse.
And every generation learns
it stands instead at a hinge.

We inherit storms
we did not summon.
We inherit debts
we did not incur.
We inherit freedoms
we did not fight for.

And still
we are called to build.

Not monuments to ourselves —
but structures that hold weight
after we are gone.

Bridges across division.
Systems that move strangers toward opportunity.
Knowledge passed quietly
from one steady hand to another.

Some are warriors.
Some are teachers.
Some are engineers of steel and concrete.
Some are engineers of thought.

Most are never known.

But the arc remembers.

It remembers those who rose from scarcity
without becoming cruel.
Those who fought
without learning to love destruction.
Those who led
without demanding to be seen.

It remembers the meeting canceled.
The call that did not come.
The breath held overnight
until morning brought mercy.

It remembers that civilization survives
not because horror ceases,
but because enough people
choose steadiness over spectacle.

We cycle through terror and triumph.
Through boom and ruin.
Through forgetting and remembering.

And yet the long arc holds.

It holds because someone
plants even when war rages.
Studies even when hungry.
Builds even when uncertain.
Loves even when grieving.

The arc does not promise peace.
It promises responsibility.

It bends toward what we are willing to sustain.

And if we are worthy,
it bends — slowly, stubbornly —
toward dignity.

We are not the beginning.
We are not the end.

We are the span between.

And what we choose to carry
will decide
what stands.

________________________________________________

The Long Arc
Concept and thematic direction by John Stephen Swygert
Composed in collaboration with AI

Truth Builds ~ Lyrics / Poetry ~ Mobius∆Tripz / AscenzIon

I was raised on a screen door slamming
Sunday bells and honest hands
You don’t shout your prayers to heaven
You live them best you can
Daddy said keep your word clean
Let your yes be what it means

I’ve been knocked down by closed doors
Letters cold as courthouse stone
Learned the hard way who keeps score
When you’re standing all alone
Every bruise became a lesson
Every scar a map back home

People who are chasing status quit when the status is denied
People who are chasing truth rebuild the road
You can polish all the medals, hang them high and stand with pride
Or lay another mile of gravel stone by stone
When the lights all fade and nothing stays the same
People chasing truth rebuild the road

I’ve seen silver-tongued believers
Lose their way for loud applause
Trading faith for folded papers
And a seat beside the boss
But quiet hands keep working
Long after the cheering’s gone

I bit my tongue and held my temper
When the room turned sharp and small
Could’ve burned a bridge in anger
But I chose not to let it fall
Sometimes silence is the hammer
That drives the strongest nail of all

If this life’s a borrowed ledger
We don’t get to take it home
All we leave’s the way we measure
What we build and what we own
Leave a path for those behind us
Not a throne of brittle bones

People who are chasing status quit when the status is denied
People who are chasing truth rebuild the road
You can polish all the medals, hang them high and stand with pride
Or lay another mile of gravel stone by stone
When the lights all fade and nothing stays the same
People chasing truth rebuild the road

I don’t need a golden pulpit
Or my name in neon light
Just a table set for supper
Where the hungry eat alright
If I’m wrong then let me learn it
If I’m right then let it live

When I’m dust and done with breathing
Let it never be unknown
I believed in giving freely
And I walked what I was shown
Truth’s a fire that keeps on burning
Long after the singer’s gone

People who are chasing status quit when the status is denied
People who are chasing truth rebuild the road
You can polish all the medals, hang them high and stand with pride
Or lay another mile of gravel stone by stone
When the lights all fade and nothing stays the same
People chasing truth rebuild the road
People chasing truth rebuild the road