I woke still half-dreaming I was falling out of the trees and tumbling down into the sky It's cold, so cold sometime before dawn searching for a light and reaching round for my clothes That we believe, so must call, rise The convoys roll into the coming daylight Let it not be said that everything must die without some mark being made of its passing
As if all the world should now hold its breath These are the days that we'll recall when the masks are off the faces and there's something to fight for All the lines drawn down in the Soul You can let your anger burn crazy
There's talking-drums echoed down towards the Kennet Canal and wood-smoke sweet on the air And the Yellow Jackets stand with the Thick Blue Line backs to the woods in the fresh thin carpet of snow Snelsmore Wood, The Chase, Enbourne Road Reddings Copse, Tothill down through Andover Grove Let it not be said that everything must die without some mark being made of its passing
As if all the world should now hold its breath These are the days that we'll recall when the masks are off the faces and there's something to fight for All the lines drawn down in the Soul You can let your anger burn crazyTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
