There are two mountains.
The one that everyone knows,
Our eyes pass by it, it is so well known
I know it's shape while I travel.
It waits.
In photos and songs of picturesque living it waits.
But Bright Mountain, all day, trails a growing shadow
And the second peak appears only at night.
In the dark this mountain towers and roars.
Dark Mountain trails nothing and constantly grows.
Where there were skies there are ocean shadows
And we will be inside.