( - Brock - )
Down down and down, down down and down
As we spin through the night
With ever increasing might
Down down and down, down down and down
Returning volumes of sound
Into the blackness we drown
Round round and round, round round and round
As we lay in our sleep
The appointment we keep
Down down and down, down down and down
Only the rushing is heard
Onward flies the bird
Down down and down, down down and down
Returning volumes of sound |