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Mount Valor
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Gold Rush
victors of the cold, the crossers called
to leave young meadows in search for gold
trees leave green the fields beyond
the forest's twisting arms of progressors
there upon the hills the mountain's milk
flows like veins, the virgin soil
sunlight guide us, even amidst the elements
of surprise and lot and luck
lot and luck
lead us to your faithful bedside's night
leather plagues abounding with a lust to
crush the flesh, though battling we live on
left those homes there long before
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the pain of choosing warmth
would soon choose our souls
people guided by them all,
the myriads of paths our motives walk
and all will lead us to the banks,
but there we find if we are the
gold the sifters keep
the sifters keep
lead us to your faithful bedside's night
oh there we'll find…
if we are the gold the sifters keep
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