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The day begins and ends in flame,
but here that place is one and the same
and the shadows never tire.
And the river can't dream about the snow
with the sun spinning over it's head
it can't remember how
the cars drove over.
Won't let my thoughts catch up to me,
think that I can stay numb
if I just lay up under the midnight sun.
The ground is froze
for 100 feet below,
summer forgot to tell
the ice to melt.
Muddy water got it's fingers deep in the stone
between a million years of mountains
that slipped beneath the ground
without a sound.
The miles pile up behind
a wall I hope to never climb.
Can I bury myself up north?
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