High in the sky,
Through the clouds and rain,
Every familiar field,
Seems like an old friend,
When every hand that you shake,
Is like a warm embrace,
Could only be one sweet place,
Home and the Heartland.
Sing out your songs,
And ring out your stories and rhymes,
Weave from your dreams,
The mystical dances that lead us to
Bind in heart and mind.
As we circle the world,
With our wandering airs,
Gathering here and there,
Leaving behind our share,
Like the leaves in the wind,
They are blown along,
Melodies rising from,
Home and t
No Direction
Culture was the seed of proliferation but it's gotten melded
Into an inharmonic whole, to an inharmonic whole.
Consciousness has plagued us and we cannot shake it
Though we think we're in control, though we think we're in control.
Questions that besiege us in life are testament of our helplessness.
There's no vestige of a beginning, no prospect of an end.
When we all disintegrate it will all happen again, yeah.
Time is so rock solid in the minds of the hordes but they can't
Explain why it should slip away, explain why it should slip away.
History and future are the comforts of our curiosity but here we are
Rooted in the present day, rooted in the present day
Questions that besiege us in life are testament of our helplessness.
There's no vestige of a beginning, no prospect of an end.
When we all disintegrate it will all happen again, yeah.
If you came to conquer, you'll be king for a day,
But you too will deteriorate and quickly fade away.
And believe these words you hear when you think your path is clear...
We have no control. We have no control.
We have no control, we do not understand.
You have no control, you are not in command.
You have no control. We have no control.
No control. No control. You have no control.
Note: The "There's no vestige..." line is from Hutton, 1795. So there.