The Mountain — The Stills

We took fifteen steps But fifteen wrong Through packs of wolves And wild dogs Wait, We've been told to

Our house turns to rust And power is lost Your hands are clean But these diamonds are soft Wait, We've been told to

The hammers were quiet Nailing me to the wall I've been hanging here All nightlong

We've been here before We'll be there again The blood on my hands, hanging Over my head

The Mountain Catches fire and melts the snow Now the river Carries us home