Just the power of indecision,
You're riddled with shame.
If you leave your home number I will send you the blame.
The teeth in the cupboard ward away all bad luck,
Deep within Willamette Mountain.

A sheepskin for winter,
And a tin can for rain.
I could cut you fresh ginger if you say that you're staying.
I got a million more stories, and only half aren't true,
Here inside Willamette Mountain.

Well, I am not real, for you I feel,
For you I feel when the morning comes.
I am not real, for you I feel,
For you I feel when the morning comes.

Please be cautious, my loved one,
The collar round your neck might not lead you to water,
But to prison instead.
You have four paths to choose from,
And only three will confuse.
The last leads to Willamette Mountain.

Well, I am not real, for you I feel,
For you I feel when the morning comes.
I am not real, for you I feel,
For you I feel when the morning comes.

Hurry and write down your feelings,
Hesitation means death.
Pickle all of your wrinklings,
Bottle every last breath for your mind will betray you,
And say your memory is false,
Underneath the sheets in Willamette Mountain.

Conjure all of your demons,
Try and make peace with the pain,
To ignore and neglect will make you bitter and stained.
You're a creature of comfort,
Your body gives way,
To the spirits in Willamette Mountain.

Well, I am not real, for you I feel,
For you I feel when the morning comes.
I am not real, for you I feel,
For you I feel when the morning comes.
For you I feel when the morning comes.


Lyrics submitted by Mellow_Harsher

Willamette Mountain song meanings
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