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Flung high The salutations The deep curse And the shudders closed
The spring house In the making A good house Of the many stones
In my soul And fears I don't know I hear there's a march We should go
Lost on this road Are there any real Sundays to find?
Unveil On the rising The paramount Of the eyes of kings
As you saw What I'm seeing You thaw From the fires
There's pace In your game And wake In you strays I ache from The center rounds
Lost on this road Are there any real Sundays to find? Lost on this road Are there any real Souls?
Don't hear what I hear Don't see what I see Don't leave what I must Leave behind
Lost on this road Are there any real Sundays to find?
This stop, I am hungry The deep well Of a stranger hell And this hearts A lonely hunter now
I'm lost on this road Are there any real Sundays to find? I'm lost on this road Are there any real Souls?