High Places - Late Bloomer

A fissure formed and when it grew
The atmosphere from molten spew
Billions of years and then there's you
With ashen hair and fiery moods

When we grew by a riverbank
Our roots entangled cold and dank
They chopped us down and lit a fire
Our smoke encircled from the pyre

In every life there's always you
I am the hill you are the view
When overseas you guide me back
When you're a train I am the track.