The Silk Road by Darkestrah Lyrics
I pass valleys, a way among different civilizations
Among different cultures, valleys, mountains under the heat of the red sun
If only you wish, I would be a chasm
If only you wish, I would be a river
I'll hear this call under sand's thorns
But I'll overcome my hard way
I know and I believe in words of the old shaman
He told me about a forgotten way
Not being afraid of snakes and wolves and to worship fire
The nature to enjoy and trusting myself
The desert smells like the sea, open space and freshness
You see nothing. Endlessness. A scratch of space
Here is another silence. Like a lake, northern silence - rings, and that is she
Here the silence is empty. It is no longer there
Nothing exists... nothing
Columns of dust fly upon the desert as spirits and genies, protecting their possessions
Sands like herds of huge horses, rising under the clouds
Desert is not yellow - dried up, as it seemed before
It's grey-brown-yellow-green, seems more steppe than a desert
The ground is entirely covered with a dusty-green low grass
Branches of sexual, sickly yellow flowers
Here and there the white animal's bones is growing and picked by winds
Gray-brown, low hills and dark grey, almost black silhouettes of the
Altay mountains
White stains of the nomad's urtahs
The shepherd incredibly chooses the right grey roads, thread from a huge ball
Hidden in the desert, Desert is inside me...
Among different cultures, valleys, mountains under the heat of the red sun
If only you wish, I would be a chasm
If only you wish, I would be a river
I'll hear this call under sand's thorns
But I'll overcome my hard way
I know and I believe in words of the old shaman
He told me about a forgotten way
Not being afraid of snakes and wolves and to worship fire
The nature to enjoy and trusting myself
The desert smells like the sea, open space and freshness
You see nothing. Endlessness. A scratch of space
Here is another silence. Like a lake, northern silence - rings, and that is she
Here the silence is empty. It is no longer there
Nothing exists... nothing
Columns of dust fly upon the desert as spirits and genies, protecting their possessions
Sands like herds of huge horses, rising under the clouds
Desert is not yellow - dried up, as it seemed before
It's grey-brown-yellow-green, seems more steppe than a desert
The ground is entirely covered with a dusty-green low grass
Branches of sexual, sickly yellow flowers
Here and there the white animal's bones is growing and picked by winds
Gray-brown, low hills and dark grey, almost black silhouettes of the
Altay mountains
White stains of the nomad's urtahs
The shepherd incredibly chooses the right grey roads, thread from a huge ball
Hidden in the desert, Desert is inside me...