There's water rising on the ridge The lowlands are covered in smoke A deep quiet descends And the night falls like a cloak
And it feels, like gold And it feels, like gold
There's sickness in the heartland Lies burning to the East Still we carry the water, and we carry the flame We carry our swords like knives to the feast
And it feels, like gold And it feels, like gold
And it feels, like gold And it feels, like gold And it feels, like gold And it feels, like gold