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Blood blood all around |
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The land is crying out |
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All men are dead underneath the sands |
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And noone understands |
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Gold gold all is sold |
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Ten thousands have been slain |
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They stole their gold and destroyed their souls |
|
The prayers were all in vain |
|
War war behind the shore |
|
All men are on the run |
|
They burned the earth until there |
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But a wasteland in the sun |
|
A wasteland in the sun |
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But there's the albatross |
|
Flying circles through the wind |
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The silent master of this land |
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Far beyond the southern cross |
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Nobody heard his cries |
|
Wailing sadly through the skies |
|
Now his voice from up above |
|
Is slowly dying |
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Home home we wanna go home |
|
The beach is bleak and empty |
|
All has burnt to ashes |
|
Nothing will grow |
|
We wanna go home |
|
But there's the albatross |
|
Flying circles through the wind |
|
The silent master of this land |
|
Far beyond the southern cross |
|
Nobody heard his cries |
|
Wailing sadly through the skies |
|
Now his voice from up above |
|
Is slowly dying |
|
There's just the albatross |
|
Flying . . . |
|
September, 20, 1990: early in the morning.... |
