White Light

Oh, the village of the hill Sitting silently at will Like some prophecy forgotten by an age With no guns before its gate The mysterious estate Lies waiting for its history's dawning page With the raging of the sea before its height And the strength of those whom see beyond their sight Oh, the smithies anvil rings And the symphony it sings No voice nor poet's pen can put to tune And electric lines of force Ring around the humble lives Of the souls that hear the master saying soon With the clouds that gather near disturb the night Striking flashes of a difference, fleeing fright No slight of tongue nor hand Can so boldly there withstand When the spirit of it's truth shall speak the time And no ignorance of life Can be held within the sight Of the buttresses of ageless binds of time The communion of the forces take delight With the fear that no tongues may read nor write White Light Oh the village of the hill Sitting silently still With the strength of ages past they're still at hand Reckons not to look behind But to look within and find And to hear of those enlightened by the lamb With the powers of the wind both fierce and light And the waters of the storm went through the night From Gene Clark "White Light" A & M Records