Waking up slow to the light
and ice on the window,
breathing in hollow
spaces of time.
All of them beggars themselves,
like theives on the mountain,
draining our fountains,
and breathing new life.

Cuz' all of them know the truth,
about growing up.
What is life, without that bitter cup?
Drink it up,
before it comes to flow again.

All of them talk in their sleep,
like boys in the movies,
writing their stories,
and selling their lives.
Riding on hard till' the day,
when everything crashes -
we're lit up like matches,
and smothered in flame.

Cuz' everything's changed, the truth
has up and left.
Those stubborn rats,
sink back in their nests,
their hopes cast like nets,
and they'll always break their backs,
on the hope that all this strife,
will come around again.

Waking up cold in the light,
that streams from your doorway -
thinking my own way -
telling new tales.


Lyrics submitted by Letters for Saints

Theives on the Mountain song meanings
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