From the mountain, comes a soul And the stones grow up like trees From the mountain, comes a soul And the stones grow up like trees All blues hail Mary with her roses But you're their masterpiece Cut away each blade of grass Our feet cannot tramp down The limb of every hanging tree The time left hanging down All blues sing that love is light not glory And a story not a crown I won't be deaths sad trophy, no While I still lie awake Won't be deaths sad trophy, no While I still lie awake All blues say love, love and death for you And the chance is yet to take How dark this bit of light so late That falls across your breast How dark this bit of light so late That falls across your breast All blues and the grace by God and the I will have to I will have to learn the rest