My great fear from where it comes?
And where it goes out, I don’t know.
It’s look like sand in a bosom.
It’s look like burning hair.
My great fear from where it comes
And where it goes out, I don’t know.
May be the north wind brings
it with itself
And maybe I’m a tree
And maybe I’m fate, I’m fate.
It’s look like sand in a bosom.
It’s look like burning hair.
Maybe I drink it with water
running from my vein.
And maybe I’m a tree
And maybe I’m fate, I’m fate.