I'm feeling sick; the trees will show me why The air gets thick; this peace will soon be gone North turn the Throcken; head unto the sky The wood contracts; the army marches on Free your mind Hail to the sky Deep purple clouds grow dark; I feel their stare The trees explode, screaming in agony Three hundred wheels bring war across this land The wind steals my breath; the air is freezing The cold descends Houses implode into splinters This can't be real Battalions of wind snap frozen trees like straws Birds turn to ice before falling from the sky The sound of bullets breaking glass; I know that I must die I must die Free your mind Hail to the sky "Time is a keyhole. Yes, I think so We sometimes bend and peer through it And the wind we feel on our cheeks when we do The wind that blows through the keyhole Is the breath of all the living universe"