Из альбома: Jet Plane and Oxbow

I can’t help it, if all the world is ending
All the life is gone while you’re calling up this name
Where are the Americans?
Your dim cultures, your hands and eyes that wander
Stumbling down the road
Or collapsing on parade
We’re lying alone in the Eastern land
Slipping in the morning hours, the only sound
From the lantern covered hills, the only light
From the day yet to begin, the only sign
Of the guns and silhouettes
The only sound, the only light
Only, only!
Done with silence, we’re disconnecting lives
Pull out the lightning dust
At the mention of his name
Wither the Americans!
Take the memories out, hide the evidence under
Piss on the world below
Like a dog, that knows its name
Where are the Americans?
I’m calling on the run tonight
Feeling the remaining hours, the only sound
Are the bells upon the hill, the only light
Are the lanterns in the wind, the only sight
Screams the rust off the rails
The only sound, the only light
Only, only!
The only light is the day yet to begin
The only sight are the lives in silhouette
The only sound is the rushing of the wind
The only light is not the only life
Only, only!

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