Fortress - Clayhill

Blown in from the North with a bee\nDead song to the soles of your feet\nSideshows who’s highs will come\nGonna rip through the raptures\nGolden sail through the golden waters\nWho you be and where you see it don’t matter much to us\nWho you climb where you shine don’t figure in the rush\nYou’ll never carve your own cross\nYou’ll never feel it’s grain\nYou’ll fill the world with love\nA truth down through the street of being a human being\nThrown into the night from the moor\nHear the song from the side to the floor\nOur lives have left us undone\nGonna rip through th raptures\nGolden sail through the goldn waters\nWho you be and where you see it don’t matter much to us\nWho you climb where you shine don’t figure in the rush\nWhere you go who you know don’t matter in the fact\nWho you reel how you feel don’t figure in the fact\nNo, You'll never carve your own cross\nYou’ll never feel it’s grain\nYou’ll fill the world with love\nA truth down through the street of being a human being