From the mountain, comes a soul
And the stones grow up like trees
From the mountain, comes a soul
And the stones grow up like trees
All blues hail Mary with her roses
But you're their masterpiece
Cut away each blade of grass
Our feet cannot tramp down
The limb of every hanging tree
The time left hanging down
All blues sing that love is light not glory
And a story not a crown
I won't be deaths sad trophy, no
While I still lie awake
Won't be deaths sad trophy, no
While I still lie awake
All blues say love, love and death for you
And the chance is yet to take
How dark this bit of light so late
That falls across your breast
How dark this bit of light so late
That falls across your breast
All blues and the grace by God and the
I will have to
I will have to learn the rest
