Going to Murdoch's mountain to lay down my thoughts

Passing through the valley of stones, for my mind has wandered here

Barren land of pity, the sun has burnt a scar upon your face

Under harvest moons I discover your waste

I shall follow the river of sand to the South

See the mountain rise where the sky gives way to Murdoch's might

Always fading, brighter, your own mysterious life resolves

Slipping under the shroud that the mountain now holds

Murdoch tempted me here, gave me pennies to lend

Sang so sweetly of sleep that I couldn't wait to get to the end

Black-beaked crow, cry a warning of oncoming rain

Give your wings to the mountain, your body to the starving earth

Brighter still, the flower of life may grow away from the sun

Knowing that, with darkness, a new light has come

Murdoch beckons me now, calls me brother, not friend

Speaks so sadly of life that I can't wait to get to the end

Cold winds blow in the face of old hope that is born

Eastward come, but the fire of the north will not warm to southern skies

Even earthly silence cannot control the spinning wheels of time

This is Murdoch's mountain, no green hill of mine