Sing, bird of prey;
Beauty begins at the foot of you. Do you believe the manner?
Gold stainless nail,
Torn through the distance of man
As they regard the summit.
Even Siberia goes through the motions.
Hold out and hold up;
In her white lace, you could clearly see the lady sadly looking.
Saying that sheâd take the blame
For the crucifixion of her own domain. I get up,
I get down,
I get up,
I get down.
Two million people barely satisfy.
And you and I climb, crossing the shapes of the morning.
And you and I reach over the sun for the river.
And you and I climb, clearer, towards the movement.
And you and I called over valleys of endless seas.
Coming quickly to terms of all expression laid,
Emotion revealed as the ocean maid,
As a movement regained and regarded both the same,
All complete in the side of seeds of life with you.