Albatross

Albert Frahm, Christoph Busse

There they were...the islands
Big ones, small ones, beautiful ones and wasted ones...
But wherever they went, wherever they looked,
Wherever they put their feet...only uninhabitable, exploited, devastated sands...

They encountered everything they meant to leave behind.
War...poison...degeneration...
Love died a long time ago...

Blood blood all around
The land is crying out
All men are dead underneath the sands
And no one 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 want to go home
The beach is bleak and empty
All has burnt to ashes
Nothing will grow
We want to 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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