Black River کے بول

Still searching for my way The right way to be Still pondering what I've done I'm still thinking what I've said Still finding from within And all that I know is still not enough I'm being held by the one Shadow tormenting my soul The curving neck of a swan The slow turning of a birds head So white its plumes and feathers Its breast like the moon in water Silent and tranquil it moves On the river in the calm I wander back on familiar roads I sense the marks I left on the hills I see the cuts and wounds of my deeds They make me muse on life Up the hill and the mountain I look back, I look down There flows the River of Death And here the wind in my hair