In the silver wire up the hill
You fly riddles up to lost and found
You look around, where the hell do you begin?
All this trickery with the rewind

Well, they're the moving parts of my
Little war

You find out the second wire in
The adults would reason 'round the fire
That beyond endless mountain, there's a fog
And what trust would get up here in time

I see the loving parts of my
Little war

These young deer run so foolish and free
Will they know there's no danger in me?
With no hunt in these hills
With no season to know
Just the far away noise
And a need to let go

In the silver wire up the hill
In the lonesome swing of turnaround
One open eye, one look from where you stand
Hope a prayer is the way that I will find

To find the closing part of my
Little war

There will be endless, where some endless need to be
What will be hidden will stay hidden easily
There will be rivers where the river's in control
There will be valleys where no mountain need to try
To hide a villager from villagers as I
There will be stillness where the stillness is in control
And I see you
Tell me all is true
There's still a river where the river is in control