The keeper climbs where the air turns thin
His breath clouds out where the storms begin
He finds the temple beneath the white
The fiddle sleeps in the dying light
Snow covers the strings with a silent sheet
The bow lies cracked at the player's feet
Stone fingers hold what the years erased
The melody drowned in the frozen waste
The violin cries on the frozen stone
Its gut unspools where the wind has blown
Snow drinks the song from the bridge and bow
Silence wraps what the ancients know
The cello weeps from the valley floor
Banjo taps on the wooden door
Foot stomps shake the snow from the eaves
The group shouts loud what the heart believes
The violin cries on the frozen stone
Its gut unspools where the wind has blown
Snow drinks the song from the bridge and bow
Silence wraps what the ancients know
The tape runs thin on the vintage reel
Prairie reverb makes the past feel real
Dust coats the mic with a golden haze
The last note lingers in smoky rays
The violin unravels thread by thread
Wood splits wide where the ice has spread
Notes scatter like gulls from a breaking mast
Gone to the wind never to last
The temple stones hold the final chord
Snow writes the end with a frozen sword
The keeper nods as the music dies
He tends his lamp under pale skies
The violin cries on the frozen stone
Its gut unspools where the wind has blown
Snow drinks the song from the bridge and bow
Silence wraps what the ancients know
The bow rests still on the broken string
Silence sings what the mountains bring
