Blood blood all around The land is crying out All men are dead underneath the sands And noone understands
Gold gold all is sold Ten thousands have been slain They stole their gold and destroyed their souls The prayers were all in vain
War war behind the shore All men are on the run They burned the earth until there But a wasteland in the sun A wasteland in the sun
But there's the albatross Flying circles through the wind The silent master of this land Far beyond the southern cross Nobody heard his cries Wailing sadly through the skies Now his voice from up above Is slowly dying
Home home we wanna go home The beach is bleak and empty All has burnt to ashes Nothing will grow We wanna go home
But there's the albatross Flying circles through the wind The silent master of this land Far beyond the southern cross Nobody heard his cries Wailing sadly through the skies Now his voice from up above Is slowly dying There's just the albatross Flying . . .
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