THE HERMIT

At the bottom of the canyon

Where bits of heaven fall

The hermit, he collects them

And scribes them onto stone

In the earth, it's burning

The fire from the sky

It fell upon the grinding wheel

And set the hands of time

The hermit carves the fiery eyes

Of the earthbound ancient ones

By his vision, by his hand

The story turns the stone

The old ones guard the ancient grounds

Where earth's cleaved open wide

With opal skin and sinewed limbs

They turn the wheel of time

At the bottom of the canyon

The ones with many eyes

Wander through the haunts of men

Their white wings singed by fire

Bits of flint fall down upon

The totems to the sky

From the canyon, black as night

The red stone hoodoos rise

The hermit, he collects the flint

And steady, by his hand

Inscribes the story onto stone

That time grinds down to sand

The ones that brought the sacred fire

Still live inside the earth

In the canyon, black as night

With fiery eyes, they search

Their molten eyes light up the sky

And flow under the dirt

The hermit sets his sight to stone

The wheel turns blood to earth.