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Way up in the mountains
On the high timberline
Lives a twisted old tree
Called the Bristlecone Pine
The wind there is bitter
It cuts like a knife
And it keeps that tree holding
On for dear life

But hold on it does
Standing its ground
Standing as empires
Rise and fall down
When Jesus was gathering
Lambs to his fold
This tree was already
A thousand years old

Now the way I have lived
There ain't no way to tell
When I die if I'm going
To heaven or hell
So when I'm laid to rest
It would suit me just fine
To sleep at the feet of the
Bristlecone Pine

For as I would slowly
Return to the earth
What little this body
Of mine might be worth
Would soon start to nourish
The roots of that tree
And it would partake of
The essence of me

And who knows but that as
The centuries turn
A small spark of me might
Continue to burn
As long as the sun did
Continue to shine
Down on the limbs of the
Bristlecone Pine

Now the way I have lived
There ain't no way to tell
When I die if I'm going
To heaven or hell
So I'd just as soon serve out
Eternity's time
Asleep at the feet of the
Bristlecone Pine
Asleep at the feet of the
Bristlecone Pine

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