| From the morning when I rise from my bed
|
| Till the evening, when I lay my head in slumber
|
| Oh, the loss of you does wreck my days
|
| Leaves me with a violent hunger
|
| I will never be free from you
|
| Till I escape the lion’s jaw
|
| There’s no welcome in the end
|
| There’s no reason to return, again
|
| The mountain stood so large, we were humbled
|
| We walked a high and lonely path
|
| The sun beat down on the ground
|
| We looked around us
|
| There were no trees there
|
| We found a creek there
|
| We dipped our feet there
|
| We were alone there
|
| There was still hope there
|
| There had been a great disaster
|
| And the hot winds came just after
|
| A tremendous shock was felt
|
| Survivors, often tell
|
| The trees all hit the ground
|
| Death was all around
|
| And not a single, lonesome sigh
|
| The example lay before you
|
| You, knew what you had to do
|
| You have a pressure in you
|
| To destroy the one who loved you
|
| The death was all around
|
| You were hotter to me than the sun
|
| That burned me up the day we went
|
| To Mount Saint Helens
|
| And if the special death you gave to me
|
| Is the prize I get to take home solemnly
|
| Then suffer with the fact that
|
| I could never be your friend
|
| I could never come back home, again |