Twelve Gates

Gold in the mouth of the mountain, teeth in the heat of the sun. Hands full of thunder and silence, still not clean when the killing is done. A shadow keeps changing its faces, cut one down and another one wakes. Black water laughs in the valley, there are debts that a strong back pays. No crown, no mercy, no altar flame, just another door with a different name. No prayer, no pardon, no easy road, only the weight that the shoulders know. Twelve gates under a red sky, twelve ghosts calling from the stone. Run till the stars lose their meaning, carry the world and still walk alone. Some sins turn into rivers, some scars learn how to shine. Twelve gates under a red sky, one man crossing the line. Silver feet flash through the cedar, wild eyes gone before the bow. A tusk in the frost of the morning, dragged down from the teeth of the snow. The filth of a thousand seasons won’t move for a king or a blade. So break loose the veins of the valley, let the old dirty kingdom be washed away. No crown, no mercy, no altar flame, just another door with a different name. No prayer, no pardon, no easy road, only the weight that the shoulders know. Twelve gates under a red sky, twelve ghosts calling from the stone. Run till the stars lose their meaning, carry the world and still walk alone. Some sins turn into rivers, some scars learn how to shine. Twelve gates under a red sky, one man crossing the line. Iron wings scream over dead fields, bronze in the blood of the air. White horns rise out of the ocean, rage with a crown in its stare. Night-fed horses with fire in their bellies chew on the names of the slain. A queen keeps a storm at her waistline, and the far west hides gold in the rain. Down where the black dog is breathing, down where the lamps never burn, he takes the dark by the collar and drags it back into the world. He held the sky for a heartbeat, felt heaven cut into his spine. Some men beg to be forgiven, some become the warning sign. Twelve gates under a red sky, twelve ghosts calling from the stone. Run till the stars lose their meaning, carry the world and still walk alone. Some sins turn into rivers, some scars learn how to shine. Twelve gates under a red sky, one man crossing the line. Gold in the garden, chains in the deep. The road never frees him, but the road lets him breathe. Twelve gates behind him, no home, no throne. A name made of lightning, a heart made of stone.