It's cold where the raindrops hit your skin and
the warmth diffuses
and your eyes look through the darkness agitated
and your ears receive a bunch of never ending voices
you've never seemed to hear in your whole life.

Your tent is like an invitation for all those crawling things and
the roaring of the tiger - imagination
you've counted every step of the distance and
you finally will realize how far away you are.


We follow the sounds we follow the birds we follow the river downwards
we can't see the sun we can't see a thing its so foggy in the morning
we follow the sounds we follow the birds we follow the river downwards
we can't see the sun we can't see a thing its so foggy in the morning.

Lyonus

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