How do I wake my spirit cold? We always say when our history's told If only we knew the things we know There's a question ages old Let me down easy, let me down slow If all good things ever come and go Let me back down in a place I know Hold the nail for the hammer stroke Oh this my trash, this my tome Oh this my blood, this my bone How do I learn my dreams to mold, To lay them bare in the morning cold? If they're still out there then the chasm grows For all you know, for all you've known Let me down easy, let me down slow If all good things ever come and go Let me back down in a place I know Hold that nail for the hammer stroke Oh this my weapon, this my loam Oh this my blood, this my bone How do I wake my spirit cold? Most people die but others just go She's still out there and the chasm grows Steady are the feet in the morning glow Oh this my trash, this my tome Oh this my weapon, this my loam Oh this my mountain, this is my home