Awaken in the silent night. Alone, inland hysteria.
I am a stranger in this land. Here I kneel before you.
Oh, solemn glory.
Standing together on the hill. Nothing spoken, but yet understood.
Below, a procession of wooden men. Swinging their tree trunks in the wind.
Standing together on the hill. Nothing spoken, but yet understood.
The white birches are alive, they are marching.
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
Sign in to post the first listener note. Reporting stays open to everyone.