My friend Mirdonnie tells us stories
Of things long gone, long gone
And we may take a glass together
The whisky makes it all so clear
It fires our dulled imaginations
And I feel so near, so near
I feel so near to the howling of the wind
I feel so near to the crashing of the waves
I feel so near to the flowers in the field
The old man looks out to the island
Says this place is endless then
We might all fall in or fall in
As he proudly said, proudly said
I feel so near to the howling of the winds
I feel so near to the crashing of the waves
I feel so near to the flowers and the fields
And so we build our tower constructions
Prepared to mark our place in time
We justify our great destruction
As on we climb, on we climb
Hear the children shout, children shout
To the howling of the wind
To the crashing of the waves
To the flowers in the field
Feels so near, feels so near