Lie beneath a cold blanket and watch the mountains sleep
The train rolls by every hour, as I wake and dream
The woods and the hills–faces so dear to me
Frozen lakes, flatland snow, where I’m called I’ll go
Such still quiet, then the whistle echoes
My fragile sleep torn from me, as many other things will be
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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