The green was an alien hue,
The air, the sky, too good to be true.
Raging ravens as angry roosters, in the frosty morning sulphur smell.
Another world, like silent hill, but with mountain people as happy as hell.
The molten lava under the herd of horses, no one can see,
There being plenty in the wrangler prince’s orgy teepee.
Nature’s true youth, the springs are deadly and blue,
The howling hippies, at night, so very drunk and uncouth.
The rustic, as thick as lead, America’s elite resort, they said,
That is, until the mountain moonshine had royally rushed my head.
In the midst of beer and fire, a German trekker and beast to never tire,
and an Italian princess too, a cosmic tease, I shall fly even higher.
The air, the sky, too good to be true.
Raging ravens as angry roosters, in the frosty morning sulphur smell.
Another world, like silent hill, but with mountain people as happy as hell.
The molten lava under the herd of horses, no one can see,
There being plenty in the wrangler prince’s orgy teepee.
Nature’s true youth, the springs are deadly and blue,
The howling hippies, at night, so very drunk and uncouth.
The rustic, as thick as lead, America’s elite resort, they said,
That is, until the mountain moonshine had royally rushed my head.
In the midst of beer and fire, a German trekker and beast to never tire,
and an Italian princess too, a cosmic tease, I shall fly even higher.