Theives on the mountain
Letters for saints
Waking up slow to the light
And ice on the window,
Breathing in hollow
Spaces of time.
All of them beggars themselves,
Like theives on the mountain,
Draining our fountains,
And breathing new life.
And ice on the window,
Breathing in hollow
Spaces of time.
All of them beggars themselves,
Like theives on the mountain,
Draining our fountains,
And breathing new life.
Cuz' all of them know the truth,
About growing up.
What is life, without that bitter cup?
Drink it up,
Before it comes to flow again.
All of them talk in their sleep,
Like boys in the movies,
Writing their stories,
And selling their lives.
Riding on hard till' the day,
When everything crashes
We're lit up like matches,
And smothered in flame.
Cuz' everything's changed, the truth
Has up and left.
Those stubborn rats,
Sink back in their nests,
Their hopes cast like nets,
And they'll always break their backs,
On the hope that all this strife,
Will come around again.
Waking up cold in the light,
That streams from your doorway
Thinking my own way
Telling new tales.
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Mais ouvidas de Letters for saints
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- If I, Alone, Am Left (or, For The Misconstrued, Ode To The Dreadnaught)
- Mrs. Annie Capone
- Rain, And All It's Symphony
- A Promise In Your Coat
- The Shepherd's Staff
- Theives On The Mountain
- Faceless Angels
- Our Lady's Grave (And The Dust That Settles On Her Bones)
- Pills Will Make It Worse