Brett Lock
As in the myth of Moriah, a father takes his son
Along a winding cliff where once walked another one
Stoic in his sacrifice, the boy cries out “why, why, why?”
The wind takes the ashes, but there is no reply
I wrestled with my conscience on a bench on Peniel Hill
It could not get the best of me, it could not break my will
Instead it broke my silence, instead it touched a nerve
I cried like a broken man, I wailed without reserve.
There is nothing out there I believe
It is our lonely sky, our lonely sky
Alone in our ecstasy and grief
Below a lonely sky, our lonely sky
When I came to know myself, there was a famine in this land
But plentiful above were stars, peppered like grains of sand
Near Bethel we scattered you like the dust of the earth
I stood there like the stone that marked the place of my birth
There is nothing out there I believe
It is our lonely sky, our lonely sky
Alone in our ecstasy and grief
Below a lonely sky, our lonely sky
If there were a point to this there’d be a god above
We’d shine below like angels basking in his love
But as it is, all we have is each moment until death
We count these off like shekels, more precious with every breath.
There is nothing out there I believe
It is our lonely sky, our lonely sky
Alone in our ecstasy and grief
Below a lonely sky, our lonely sky
The stars glance their light off the black sea
It’s quiet on the windward and the lee
The silence offers answers we reach for with trusting hands
The world we know grows smaller as the universe expands.
There is nothing out there I believe
It is our lonely sky, our lonely sky
Alone in our ecstasy and grief
Below a lonely sky, our lonely sky
- From the album DUST.