1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9... Times I breathe in the holy air Before I open my eyes to summer's dying flare The autumn fire, the arches of rust This hallowed aisle
Cathedrals of trees, where the altars are burning The smoke of October leaves Father winter is calling his herd aloud And we are the crows who fly
"From the aisle of autumn fire we arise Over the lakes and trees we draw the night sky With our wings we paint the vast horizons, and the stars The stars upon the Northern skies"
Blinded by the midnight sun In this land we were born Now racing the clouds Towards the winter's thorn, and we fly
We turn our heads towards the setting sun The beauty and the light of the one Who will be gone so soon, fade into her hiding And the season of rust Will soon harvest the living So we can be reborn againTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
