We are La Montagne and we write pop music. The faint smell of alcohol rolls from your mouth as you knock him down to your level. The yearning for possesions of the past that ran into the distance. The fear of losing control of who you are and what you can do to people who hide behind masking tape coats. The heat slowly melting your snowy body and turning you into a puddle for them to step in. Quit running and stand up to everybody. Nagent vers La Montagne.