Thousand Maps - What's Left of the Empire | Текст песни

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• Thousand Maps
• What's Left of the Empire

When all is whittled
By wind, sand or flame
Over seas and centuries
They’ll call my name
They’ll talk of empire
Sketch the mark of my hand
Draft the arteries and revelries
That lay beneath the sands

When all is whittled
By wind, sand or flame
Over seas and centuries
They’ll call my name
And it will carry through the air
and filter through the land
Through the bones of the thousands
that lay beneath the sands

The rivers rise
Borders shaking, hands up reaching high
The fires climb
Foundations crumble, levelled side by side
All that’s left,
Endless sand stretching to the sky
With nothing in between for miles and miles

When all is whittled
By wind, sand or flame
Over seas and centuries
They’ll call my name
But they’ll know not of my voice
Nor of the mark of my hand
Just a lone pair of ankles
creeping through the sand

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