See the man with the Golden Hand
He’s living in a far off land
The birds of the storm
Descend as one cloud
The raindrops strike the earth
The dragon stirs in his slumber
High in his mountain abode.
From the depths of a cavern
Strange sounds pierce the air
The machinery of war
The tools of Death himself
Assembled to produce grief
The might warriors ride through the night
They depart their homes, they depart to fight
The noise of the battle is heard by all
They know there’s no return. They know they’ll fall
The horses charge. The swords clash. The men die
Death is reaping their souls by the thousand
Their lifeless bodies lie strewn on the land
The blood flows in rivers into the sea
The entrails of the brave, plucked out, set free
Men ask for battles, death is the reply.
See the man with the Golden Hand
He’s dying in a far off land
The storm birds fly high
Never to return
Blood is thicker than rain
The dragon sleeps peacefully
High in his mountain abode
Written 1979-04-06/07
Second version my rock epic set to rival Stairway To Heaven. Written during the Odd Tripe era. I envisioned the first part to be softer, more melodic, but building up in intensity of tempo and volume. The second part to be heavy to reflect a battle. The third part to be similar to the first part to reflect the quiet after a battle.
M. Robert Gibson 