Testo:
[I FRONTIERS]
Pounding rhythms announce a borderline to pass
Arctic chill embraces me under African skies
Now all is one, grand transition starts slowly,
Life leaks away
There's a certain passage I must run through all alone
Static yet kinetic this projection lasts and widens constantly
Feeling alone
Closer to the boundaries inertia thrill's my sleep
Somehow I must enter in scenes beyond compare
I know I will
[II PROJECTIONS]
Adrift at sea on my way to Avalon
Tangled in moments surreal beneath the bridge of sighs
Emptiness takes hold
Inhibitions and stifled fears emerge from the abyss of childhood,
My soul starts movind 'til it flies
I retrace the years back and I sense compulsions disintergrate,
Barricades once built tumble down, eventually
Projections - pictures of somewhere I'd been
Coloured reflections
[III THE GRAINS OF SAND]
Even though new horizons are reached questions remain,
Subconscicous landscapes left behind
There's the permanent hope that the sand in my hands
recites details of moments passed away
And the grains of sand slip through my fingers
Like the vision that blurs whith the light of dawn
Pounding rhythms announce a borderline to pass
Arctic chill embraces me under African skies
Now all is one, grand transition starts slowly,
Life leaks away
There's a certain passage I must run through all alone
Static yet kinetic this projection lasts and widens constantly
Feeling alone
Closer to the boundaries inertia thrill's my sleep
Somehow I must enter in scenes beyond compare
I know I will
[II PROJECTIONS]
Adrift at sea on my way to Avalon
Tangled in moments surreal beneath the bridge of sighs
Emptiness takes hold
Inhibitions and stifled fears emerge from the abyss of childhood,
My soul starts movind 'til it flies
I retrace the years back and I sense compulsions disintergrate,
Barricades once built tumble down, eventually
Projections - pictures of somewhere I'd been
Coloured reflections
[III THE GRAINS OF SAND]
Even though new horizons are reached questions remain,
Subconscicous landscapes left behind
There's the permanent hope that the sand in my hands
recites details of moments passed away
And the grains of sand slip through my fingers
Like the vision that blurs whith the light of dawn
