Из альбома: Cuisine (with Piscatorial)
Fifteen years have passed
The desert sands adhere to your hands and block your airways
Trickle down your throat,encrusting on your heart
Every night the flight resumes, the foe replies, the fall returns
Deep in the sands you hold your bible / Deep in the heart of enemy land
Did you leave something behind? / Your televised dismay was plain
Did you leave something behind? (they're here)
Was it Romans three or two / that spoke to you of crescent lands
Parked and blessed by tactical flashes / weighed upon the heathen hand?
Did you leave something behind? (they're here)
High in the sky the way is clear / The reasons fair and the air is yours