This track is about contested identities at ancient sites. Motivated by righteous hippies bothering a stone circle at summer solstice 2012 with their bongo drums and vegan spread sandwiches, when the actual 'pagans' who built the monument, would have simply killed them.
Upon the hills that cross the edge of all these wind-loamed moors
the ghosts of villages scab the grass beneath the dirt
no longer in deep woods I climb a path once thick with trees
no wolves will wait to snatch me, no roots will snare my feet.
Long gone the wooded trails that bravely cut the shadow veils
the skies no longer pierced by rows of spikened wood
above the shapes in grass, raise naked walls to those
who seek to paint their shelter, and step into their world.
To close the door, and walk with kings
who here dares to walk the path of kings?
Over your shoulder, through the closing door
lies a world where all is ours and magic has no place at all
not so for hilltop man, who watched the line where sky meets land
a lone path gave him little choice
and here I know and hear his voice
The cruelty of nature
his reasons to be cruel
his reasons to be harder
his reasons to kill fools
his reasons to be master
through magic might and gods
his reasons to speak truth
and why he had no choice at all
With the wind and the crows
and the big empty space
I humbly walk the only path through this lonely place
Today we choose our cults
false kings that mock and laugh
but on this hill I walk the way
that was the only path