Mountain Man

Come awake old man spring,

In meadow’d hills where you are King,

Blades of grass shall lick your feet,

As the drums of Earth begin to beat.

The battle nears as it always has,

In the abandoned fields of a timeless past.

Your story is written in the mountain stone,

Above the ground, you are still known.

A rogue of the land you must hide your face

From the lies you have made and your disgrace,

Repent yourself, do all you can,

For one day you must give in to the fate of all man.

Can you hear the mountain man?

Screamin’ from his mountain land,

Within the forests icy cold,

In melancholy fall where leaves burn gold.

He’s holding on to his mountain throne,

Of flowers gray and shards of bone.

Maenads sing his lullaby,

He’s in the place he was born to die.