There's water rising on the ridge The lowlands are covered in smoke A deep quiet descends And the night falls like a cloak And it feels, like gold And it feels, like gold There's sickness in the heartland Lies burning to the East Still we carry the water, and we carry the flame We carry our swords like knives to the feast And it feels, like gold And it feels, like gold And it feels, like gold And it feels, like gold And it feels, like gold And it feels, like gold