You'll find me sitting at this table
With my friend Fin and my friend John
My friend Murdaney tells us stories
Of things long gone, long gone

And we may take a glass together
The whisky makes it all so clear
It fires our dulled imaginations
And I feel so near, so near

I feel so near to the howling of the winds
I feel so near to the crashing of the waves
I feel so near to the flowers in the fields
I feel so near

The old man looks out to the islands
He says this place is endless thin
There's no real distance here to mention
We might all fall in, all fall in

No distance to the spirits of the living
No distance to the spirits of the dead
And as he turned his eyes were shining
And he proudly said, proudly said

I feel so near to the howling of the winds
I feel so near to the crashing of the waves
I feel so near to the flowers in the fields
I feel so near
So we build our tower constructions
There to mark our place in time
We justify our great destructions
As on we climb, on we climb

Now the journey doesn't seem to matter
The destination's faded out
And gathering out along the headland
I hear the children shout, children shout

I feel so near to the howling of the winds
I feel so near to the crashing of the waves
I feel so near to the flowers in the fields
I feel so near