- cifra
When we came upon the plain
you could hear the children sing
"There's no way we're gonna take that city there"
Nothing but the wind
was going out or coming in
Over empires reaching that far up in the air
The city like a drum
was beaten by the long arm of the sun
the long arm of the sun
The clouds of dust we raised
we marched around that place for days
Grease the blow on the ram's horns now and again
But the sound was made
So from above they watched amazed
It's like race of praise beseech them
They went down as a route
They raised those walls with nothing but a shout
nothing but a shout
The city like a drum
was beaten by the long arm of the sun
the long arm of the sun
