Young Mountain - Tim Finn

I grew up, not looking down

The shadow of a mountain fell upon my town

A blueness in the distance

Living in my memory

Now I climb the creaking stairs

And walk upon a vanishing floor to get nowhere

A little Mussolini screaming in my mind

History will tell you lies

History will tell you lies

Your dream is buried by the dust of ages

Time to sing a travel song

For all the days that come and go

As we move on

Erotic summer heat wave burring in my memory

Travel over hills and plains

See the hidden valley’s golden grass aflame

A mother tongue that licks away your secret fear

History will disappear

History will disappear

Your dream is buried by the dust of ages

Quite a load to carry

Everything that we have done

Searching my horizon for a glimpse of the millennium

Hasn’t been so very long

We haven’t even half begun

To peter out

A version of the future

Living in my mind

Leaving it all behind

It hasn’t all been done

History will tell you lies

All who fall shall cry

Your dream is buried by the dust of ages

On the Young Mountain all four winds flow

From the Young Mountain wild rivers flow

History will disappear

On the Young Mountain, a path unwinds

On the Young Mountain, who falls shall climb

Climb the Young Mountain

Cross the first river, swim the new sea

On the Young Mountain, all four winds will blow

Leaving it all behind

From the Young Mountain, wild rivers flow

History will tell you lies

On the Young Mountain, who falls shall climb

On the Young Mountain, all four winds will blow

From the Young Mountain, wild rivers flow