The Power Comes on by Itself

On the mountains there’s low sun.
There will be no moon tonight.
No one cares about these things.
Humans live by human lights.

Down the mountains stream the streams.
We have bridges crossing them,
Under every bridge a myth.
Wave hello when crossing them.

It won’t be too dark tonight.
Our land imitates the stars.
Strange that we still die on cue,
Now that all this power is ours.