He is sitting on a hill   A vapid night is crawling through the vale   The trees are fangs of transiency   The demons forge hammers and nails         The spring is in the air   The sirens in the skies   The wind is in his hair   The morning`s in his eyes   The rain turns on   And he will be   On the phone   The world has left alone...      He will travel all the ways   That lead to the unknown lands   Time has distorted his view   An amen in his due      The spring is in the air   The sirens in the skies   The wind is in his hair   The morning`s in his eyes   The rain turns on   And he will be   On the phone   The world has left alone...