In the darkness swirls the cries: faces, follies, fears beside,
Growing like mold in a cavern deep, where the self-hate wretched sleep,
They spread like venom in a wound, a poison that will quick consume,
Oh wander in the shadow-paths, they never lead up to the sun,
Where the lies are many, the darkness makes them one.
Hold up the torch, boy, let the free wind fight it!
Raise it, the tussling breeze will feed it!
Shine it from your mountaintop, shine it at your door!
If they lie in loathings grip, let them lie in dark no more!
Wave the torch, boy, shake and shine it, signal from the roaring shore!
In the darkness lies the sickness, in the lies grows only gall,
In your hand you have the torch now, see it paint the cavern walls,
Hold aloft that fierce altar: burn the fire pure and bright,
coax alight that blazing beacon: the fire of your heart.
