Look at them and see what they are like
They move as though a wind were pushing them
They rest as though a hand had stopped them

In their eyes is the oncoming darkness
Sweeping across summer fields
Before the storm

Look at them and see what they are like
They move as though a wind were pushing them
They rest as though a hand had stopped them

In their eyes is the oncoming darkness
Sweeping across summer fields
Before the storm

Look at them and see what they are like
They move as though a wind were pushing them
They rest as though a hand had stopped them

In their eyes is the oncoming darkness
Sweeping across summer fields
Before the storm

Before the storm
Before the storm
Before the storm