(Blackie / Big Boss)



Carried by wind is the dust of the ruined Temples

Skulls of ancestors dead long time it covers

Above the pagan Altar an unknown song is heard

But nobody dances, just Wind, just Wind.



Stories he tells / ballads of lost times

It was Him who saw them / heard and danced with them

Made fly veils of witches / of pagan women

Rustled in beards of / mighty wizards.



The Wind…the Wind…the Wind…



In an image of Windstorm / he many things (demolished and destroyed)

In an image of Breeze / foreheads of kings (murderers he cooled)

Distributed seeds / as well as ideas and plans

Something of everything / he keeps inside though.



The Wind…the Wind…the Wind…



The Message of the Time the Wind / hides inside

Once to us he will pass it / shall we understand ?

The old legacy / old as the Time and Wind

Are we worth it ? / can we bear the Truth ?



The Wind…the Wind…the wind…