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