High up above the mountain wall,
I hear the soaring spirit call.
On wings of silver and of stone,
it guides the traveler all alone.
It watches from the highest peak, the quiet freedom that we seek.
The movement of the ages is slow.
Watch the ancient shadows grow.
Awake.
I hear the soaring spirit call.
On wings of silver and of stone,
it guides the traveler all alone.
It watches from the highest peak, the quiet freedom that we seek.
The movement of the ages is slow.
Watch the ancient shadows grow.
Awake.