I would meet you in,
the foothills all wrapped in snow.
Sun will rise again,
carving out it all for you and I alone.
Travel far,
and life, my compass to the North.
Trade the prairie for sunlight and gasp for thinner air,
I'll dream as if I'm there.
So, draw a map if you want me back tonight, and I'll return
with some wood to burn for light.
Catching dreams beneath the shadow of a pine.
Needles fall in line, and senses do collect what memory forgets.
So draw a map if you want me back tonight.
And I'll return with some wood to burn for light.
And for intent (?) their lungs they swell with love.
They'll sing the songs that we brought down from above.
Say good morning to the sky. Where giants crowd your sight.
Never Summer in these heights. Climbing further still; I'll find you in the hills.