Run away, run away, to the silent shores
             of the stillpoint we shall go
And in the forests and in the fields
          and burn them while the blind hand kills
men and mountain, God and whore
       the bloody swords we held high
           shall fall forever more
                  into the silence of the deep
        The mountains cry
           the winds will weep
       and we shall to the stillpoint flow
         and men shall laugh
                 and gods shall go . . .
             into the stillness of the night.