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Tom stood out on the ridge on august 10thand thought about his baby's frozen hands,and how although he'd lived, he'd never climbed a ropeor touch the face of a lover again.In the white watered wildhe fell into a crevasse and somehow stayed alive.From the glacier's heart of white, through a jagged slit of light,cloud shapes of horses he would ride.When that fool played the ridge like an illegal game,his knees over the wire,and we all wanted to be him until the minute he slippedand scattered broken bones across the scree.From the knifelike mangled peakTom saw his clothing scattered far beneath-an unretrievable mess of gear and bonesWashing down the watershed,turning into something green.From the glacier's heart of white,through a jagged slit of light saw the horses he would ride. Aus Songtexte Mania