The Mountain

by Style Like Revelators



Tonight, we sing to the souls of the damned
Who open fire while we open arms
Tonight, we'll dream machines understand
They close the case that closes our eyes

I live, I scream, I die
But you won't hear my cry
My heart, my hands, my soul is damned
Our sun, our moon, our sky
New low that knows no high
My heart, my hands, my soul is damned

I've seen the men on top of the mountain
With peaks so high they stand above the clouds
They can't recall ever seeing the ground
Death valley, no need to look down




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