Mother nature working to sketch,
Living pictures in the mountain stretch,
Through the fog a small fire forms,
Replicating itself and creating more,
Spreading over the eastern hill,
I lie close to death, very still,
But through the fire I'm sure I see,
A head held high, come, come, majestic beast,
Save me and thyself, into the west we shall run,
Let us go and descend alongside the golden sun,
Right into the Gates of Heaven we shall trot,
Amongst the angels, cherubims and God,
With a mighty hand and a lightning bolt,
Past the powers of the Lord, let us take hold,
With the help of your strong legs, oh beast,
With the help of your mighty horns, oh beast,
We shall smite down upon the celestial beings,
Let us take heaven for our own
12/16/05