You count the coins at dawn's first gray
The mountain wind cuts through your coat
No tourist stops to watch you pray
Just heavy trucks on frozen road
Your booth stands where the old stones keep
Beneath the pass where cold winds cry
The temple wakes while valleys sleep
You guard the gate where silence dies
Toll the bell for those who cross
Snow buries deep the holy loss
Stone remembers every hand
Faith holds fast on frozen land
The meter reads like miles you drove
Each axle weighed and marked in lead
No receipt for what you love
Just iron rails and frozen bread
Toll the bell for those who cross
Snow buries deep the holy loss
Stone remembers every hand
Faith holds fast on frozen land
Night falls hard on iron grating
Harmonica breathes in steam and smoke
Organ swells the choir waiting
Hope strikes hard like hammer stroke
You've seen the kings and beggars pass
Their gold turns dust in palm and glove
You watch the snow erase the grass
Still faithful to the god you love
The radio plays static psalms
Your CB crackles prayers for rain
You calibrate the weighing scales
And speak the truths the snow makes plain
Toll the bell for those who cross
Snow buries deep the holy loss
Stone remembers every hand
Faith holds fast on frozen land
Toll the bell for those who cross
Snow buries deep the holy loss
Stone remembers every hand
Faith holds fast on frozen land
Gate stays shut till spring thaw comes
You count the coins the temple hums
