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Upon the mountain, within the fog
Lies a spirit who sings a song
He lures men up his wicked peaks

Then casts his wrath for the blood he seeks
The pride of men, he takes away
When he hungers, his song will lead them astray

Oh come to me, I can help
Come and take my hand
I'm the mountain's only son, born from deep within

From a distance I see amongst the trees, his pale face
I crave the blood and the flesh
His final breath I can already taste

Oh come to me, I can help
Come take my hand
I'm the mountain's only son, born from deep within

I see you've com far away and are alone again
Oh come to me, lonesome man
You're not king of this mountain

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