| Well, I’ve been told of a hurricane
|
| The type of love where you forget your name
|
| I ask the question almost every day,
|
| «When will it find me?»
|
| All around me castles falling down
|
| Well they were never real anyhow
|
| Through the story and through the sound come up upon me
|
| Who am I but the dust of the Most High
|
| Drifting like a leaf in the summer sky
|
| Hoping one day you will see, that what’s inside of you, is what’s inside of me
|
| Who am I?
|
| But the dust of the most high
|
| Drifting like a leaf in the summer sky
|
| hoping one day I will see that what’s inside of you, is what’s inside of me
|
| I reminisce of a simple town
|
| Where constellations grow from the ground
|
| Where trees whisper such a common sound
|
| Do you remember?
|
| So many seeds we have planted in this soil as we wait for it to boil
|
| Mama told me it would spoil
|
| Remain loyal to the king as he laughs and weeps and sings
|
| Will I ever have the vision of no division?
|
| Who am I but the dust of the Most High
|
| Drifting like a leaf in the summer sky
|
| Hoping one day you will see, that what’s inside of you, is what’s inside of me
|
| Who am I?
|
| But the dust of the most high
|
| Drifiting like a leaf in the summer sky
|
| hoping one day you will see that what’s inside of you, is what’s inside of me
|
| Who am I?
|
| Who am I?
|
| Who am I? |