Across the sand under a crescent moon. In celebration of our feards. And rumours circulating in the street. The candle burns the world awaits. . We ask is this some kind of victory?.
So few words. So few words. . We are movin' round to the hour. Force from the power. Thunder reigns down in a mass mind shower. Levellin' vibes unravellin' scribes.
Sometimes I feel. A million miles apart. . A million miles apart. A million miles apart.