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• Artiste: Frontier Ruckus
• Titre: Mount Marcy
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Mount Marcy is growing sparse She is the farce that I would like to tell From the bottom of your well Feel the bushes, brambles rambling Ample sapling, suckling all the air And the North from Marcy's hair When my death-day comes When my death-day numbs me I shall become one I shall become nothing And something! Something is the heaven-king for me! Your crucifixion-three-large-hills are Shadow-making over stilts we built On the mountain's silt Marcy, you're my fav'rite love! Seventeen and freckled like a soul To forget you would be so Hard on me Hard on me Hard on me to cut you from my dream-range But we shall become one We shall become nothing And something! That something is the heaven-king for me! Birds are chirping, you're usurping Things that I would never want to tell From the top of your landfill Workers smoking, all evoking Every county, full of filth and love To which you're bound above When my death-day comes For certain, I'll be sorry For all that I have done indoors When outside sons were shining Blinding! Binding! Reminding me the heaven-king is one!