I hold the grip of heavy steel.
Turning slow like a rusted wheel.
I scan the rows of frozen pine.
Walking down a jagged line.
One step left and two steps right.
I am the keeper of the light.
Counting boots in the frozen white.
Cutting through the winter night.
I see the frost on every leaf.
Winter's grip is a heavy thief.
I track the path where the gravel lies.
Underneath those purple skies.
One step left and two steps right.
I am the keeper of the light.
Counting boots in the frozen white.
Cutting through the winter night.
I find a glove by the orchard gate.
The hour grows and the wind is late.
I sweep the grass with a steady glow.
Watching how the currents flow.
One step left and two steps right.
I am the keeper of the light.
Counting boots in the frozen white.
Cutting through the winter night.
My glass is cracked and my battery low.
Wait for the morning and the gold to grow.
I see the breath in a cloudy haze.
Lost inside a winter maze.
I see the boots hit the muddy ground.
The only rhythm and the only sound.
I lead the way to the cabin door.
I do not need to search no more.
One step left and two steps right.
I am the keeper of the light.
Counting boots in the frozen white.
Cutting through the winter night.
Silver beam, silver light.
Closing out the winter night.
Silver light.
