He was born in the summer of his 27th year, coming home to a place he'd never been before. He left yesterday behind him you might say he was born again, might say he found a key for every door. When he first came to the mountains His life was far away on the road and hanging by a song. But the strings already broken and he doesn't really care, it keeps changing fast, and it don't last for long. It's a Colorado Rocky Mountain High, I've seen it raining fire in the sky The shadows from the starlight are softer than a lullabye. Rocky Mountain High, ...in Colorado.... Rocky Mountain High. He climbed cathedral mountains, he saw silver clouds below, saw everything as far as you can see. And they say that he got crazy once and that he tried to touch the sun, and he lost a friend, but kept the memory. Now he walks in quiet solitude, the forest and the stream, seeking grace in every step he takes, his sight is turned inside himself, to try and under...
Living too much by my own little life bus.