The Hermit

Lyrics

I left the valley where the arguments bleed,
And struck the grey granite at seventeen minutes to three.
The air gets thin, the timberline fails,
Nothing up here but the frost on the shale.
I pull the heavy cloak over my crown,
Looking for silence, not looking down.

But look at the glass in my shivering hand,
A six-pointed star at the edge of the land.
I didn't come up to the summit to die,
I came to pull fire right out of the sky.
The darker the mountain, the further it throws—
A beacon of glass in the absolute snows.

My left hand leans on a pale wooden pole,
Tapping the ice just to measure the toll.
When the eyes have no colors, no borders to read,
The cortex spins up the light that it needs.
A brilliant geometry made out of grace,
Locked in the cage of this freezing dark space.
Every step upward is stripping me bare,
Breathing the razor-thin altitude air.

Look at the glass in my shivering hand,
A six-pointed star at the edge of the land.
I didn't come up to the summit to hide,
I came where the shadows are splitting inside.
The colder the mountain, the further it throws—
A beacon of glass in the absolute snows.

I will not walk down to show you the path.
I will not shelter you out of the draft.
You have to look up from the mud where you stand,
And follow the spark in a lonely man's hand.
It burns 'cause I starve it, it shines 'cause I'm cold.
I carry the lantern, but you have to hold...
Your own heavy bones.

The oil is low.
The star doesn't care.
I leave it hanging in the freezing air.
You can climb if you want to.
Or stay where you are.