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