Found a way, to that old place
There's just another man on the window
The Paws scape, across the ground 
the peaceful beast it moves, all though town 

Where have they we gone 
this is the place we lived this is the place we lived in 

Pantings green, grow from the ground 
A triggered brain crowded with sticks and grains 
The air moves, underground
hear the trees watch the leaves as they move to sound  

I had entrusted a stranger with a strange thing 
My wooden heart that pumps blood in brain 
Locked in these ribs it had never seen day 
the planets movements don't care about my veins 
winter and water with life all witch way 
your Kingdoms will perish but scripts stay the same 
Roots grown in so deep with snowstorms they crumple  
The sticks still exist though all storms and rubble 

Chairlift Ghosts

Built from the sticks behind our eyes
Just mountain men looking for a place to survive 
With these sticks now in our lives 
These Alps a maze 
as a mountain opera sang for days
the lost song lead us away 
as we followed the old hymn 
to the soil where we would settle with our kin 
were we brought our sticks to live 

We followed this ancient dream 
Of building a muted town 
With sound without sounds
He will build a well formed crown
Life hidden in deep 
shovels digging down 
the mud is finally found 
wash away the old bounds 
Rip life from the ground 
The tree a foundation 
To the field 
that will grip perfect chaos all around  

This || will be our home 
These are our bones 
we grew water and stones 
Winter wind kids 
hold up our roots from which
we fall though the abyss 


Mountain Opera