Small Imperfect Ark
A five-song cycle with a bonus adaptation of Amazing Grace, about building faith without proof — doubt and silence, the weight of words, and grace that carries us through.
Names We Have No Claim To
A slow, processional dark-folk duet about the words we take in vain — peace, love, truth, freedom — and the names that cry out against us. Out on streaming June 22; the full album follows about a month later.
Listen & read along
Press play on any track, or start the full playlist. Tap Lyrics to read the words. Higher-quality versions live on the streaming services.
Did Noah stand against the sea
Before the rains came through?
Did You whisper "Build for Me"
Or did he build not knowing You?
The waters rise around us now
Not rain but poison words
Should I build? Should I bow?
Or wait until I'm heard?
I'm calling out
Into the silent sky
Searching for Your mouth
But only echoes reply...
Is this my sea of lies to face?
Should I build my ark of truth?
Or am I lost without Your grace?
Without a sign, without proof?
Noah had his hundred years
His hammer and his wood
I only have my doubts and fears
Would I build if I could?
Speak to me!
Like You spoke to him!
Let me see!
Through this water grim!
Or maybe...
Your silence is the sign
That this belief
is the only ark of mine
I'm calling out
Into the silent sky
No burning bush
Just courage I must find inside...
This is my sea of lies to face
I'll build my ark of truth
Even without Your embrace
Without a sign, just faith as proof
If Noah stood against his sea
With nothing but Your word
Then I will stand, though I can't see
With a silence I have heard.
I'll build...
Even in the dark
I'll build...
My small, imperfect ark
What is the weight of a word we speak?
Is it measured in gold? In the hands of the meek?
By the warmth of a voice? Or the cold of the stone?
By the life that it carries? Or the death it has sown?
We weigh every syllable
Every breath that we give
But what is the measure
Of a truth... that could live?
Show us the stone
Show us the way
To weigh what we carry
In all that we say
We count every echo
Every wound that we dealt
But what is the weight
Of the love... never felt?
Show us the stone
Show us the sign
To know when our words
Cross over the line
If the tablets couldn't save us
If the letter couldn't keep
What commandment shall we whisper
To the children in their sleep?
We've screamed and we've whispered
We've prayed and we've cursed
Always claiming the last word...
But lost... the first.
Perhaps the true weight
Isn't found in the sound
But in its absence
...all around.
In the Beginning...
there was the Word.
Not the last word spoken...
Not the loudest word heard...
Just... the Word.
And we carry the weight
Of every word since
The weight of the sound...
...and the weight of silence.
Through the web of golden shrines,
where the blinded masses kneel,
walks the Truth between the lines,
his broken wings beyond all heal.
He walks unnoticed in the crowd,
ignored for the lack of views.
Barefoot among the callous proud,
who burn new shoes they never use.
If an angel walked among us,
would we shelter him from rain?
Would we open doors and hearts,
or crown him with a thorn again?
Would we offer him our bread?
Or crown him with a thorn instead?
Would we even see his face
through the glare of hungry screens?
We scroll blindly past salvation,
forgetting what it means...
Though surrounded, still alone,
he preaches love to hollow scenes.
In our quest to ascend to throne,
we sell his grace to social streams...
Hashtag... crucify
live stream... of his pain
while we testify...
with likes... only for gain.
We speak in borrowed names
Wear crowns we never earned
We light our righteous flames
With words we never learned
In the name of peace, we wage our wars
In the name of love, we slam the doors
In the name of God, we cast our stones
In the name of truth, we break their bones
But the names cry out
"We never said these words!"
The names cry out
"You twisted what you heard!"
We march beneath their flags
Claim prophets as our own
We speak with holy tags
But the heart remains a stone
In the name of faith, we breed our hate
In the name of Christ, we seal their fate
In the name of justice, blind our eyes
In the name of freedom, weaponize
And the names cry out
"We never blessed your deeds!"
The names cry out
"You planted bitter seeds!"
We claimed Your name for power (I gave you mercy!)
We claimed Your name for war (I taught you peace!)
We claimed Your name to judge (I showed you grace!)
We claimed Your name to wound (I came to heal!)
We painted Your face with our own desires
We made You bless our funeral pyres
We put our words into Your mouth
Then burned the world from north to south
Now the names cry out
"You never knew My heart!"
The names cry out
"You tore My words apart!"
Strip away the names we stole
Strip away the crowns we wore
Give them back their sacred souls
Let them be what they were... before
Perhaps we spoke too loud
In names too big to bear
Perhaps beneath the shroud
We never... really... cared
Forgive us for the names
We took in vain
Forgive us for the shame
We caused... in Your name
In Your name...
...but not in Your way.
I was the lighthouse, tall and bright,
a stubborn flame against the night.
Now I am sunk, surrounded by screams,
in endless trench, in fevered dreams.
My words rose clean as morning air -
now choked by gold from serpent's lair.
Strike the gong of silence, let it ring!
Let it break the lies, so I can sing!
Strike the gong of silence, hear my cries,
let the wise be heard, their voices rise!
A hunter's mark is painted on my head
The wisest books just gather dust unread
Beneath the watch of well-dressed, smiling Lies
My voice becomes a whisper... then it dies
Strike the gong of silence, make it last,
let the noise of evil fade to past.
In the stillness find what's truly true,
the peace of wisdom speaks... to you.
I'm drowning in the well of lies,
the rope is cut, the daylight dies...
Strike the gong, let silence sweep
pull my voice up from the deep!
Strike the gong of silence, let it ring!
Through the storms of lies, I will sing!
Strike the gong of silence, hear my cries,
let the wise be heard, their voices rise!
Let my voice be heard...
No more... lies.
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,
that saved a soul like me.
I once was lost, but now am found,
was blind, but now I see.
Through many doubts, through storms and fears,
Your silent hand still guides.
My small imperfect ark still steers,
where faith and grace abide.
'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
and grace my fears relieved.
How precious did that grace appear,
the hour I first believed.
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,
that saved... and carries me.
These MP3 versions are free to play and share.
For official releases and higher-quality listening where available, find the album on your favourite streaming service.
A small, imperfect ark
This record is built around a single image: Noah hammering an ark together without proof, against a rising sea — not of water, but of poison words. It asks what it means to keep faith when the sky stays silent, and what we do to the great words — peace, love, truth, freedom — when we claim them as our own.
Sirence is a virtual singer-songwriter; her duets here are shared with the virtual baritone Gravorn. The voices and artwork are created with AI-assisted tools; the writing, themes, direction and production are human.