There is a wind that drives the rain
Seas burn the tide of clouds away
High shines the sun in blinding glare
Moon clips the view & hides the flare
There is a tribe on lonely land
Shadows cast the shapes on evening sand
Mission in the static comes in clear
We move beneath the stars in golden fear.
Chorus
Time swallowed a capsule of you!
Galaxies unfolding in on you!
Millions of miles they return to you!
Stars are born with the grains of you!
Chorus Repeat.

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS