PICTURES OF HOME

Лирика MACHINE HEAD PICTURES OF HOME

Somebody's shouting up at a mountain

Only my own words return.

Nobody's up there, it's a deception

When will I ever learn.

I'm alone here, with emptiness, eagles and snow

Unfriendliness chilling my body

And whispering pictures of home.

Wondering blindly how can they find me

Maybe they don't even know.

My body is shaking anticipating

The call of the black footed crow...

Here in this prison of my own making

Year after day I have grown.

Into a hero but there's no worship

Where have they hidden my thrown...