Upon the isles of the mountains
Where the wind curves through
The cactus and flowers
To take up church upon the world at large
Ripping through the valley
And into the heart of the souls
Who walk the streets
Alone
Upon the isles of the mountains
Where the wind curves through
The cactus and flowers
To take up church upon the world at large
Ripping through the valley
And into the heart of the souls
Who walk the streets
Alone