Flung wide, the salutations
The deep curse and the shutters close
A spring house, in the making
On good earth
Of my many´d souls in my soul

And fears I don´t know
I hear there´s a march we should go
Lost on this road, are there any real sundays to find?
Unbound, on the rising
The pell mell of the miser kings
As you saw what I´m seeing
Oh you´d thaw from the fires
There´s pace in your gait
And wake in your straights
I ache from the center out
Lost on this road, are there any real sundays to find?
Lost on this road, are there any real souls?
Don´t hear what I hear
Don´t see what I see
Don´t leave what I must leave behind
Lost on this road, are there any real sundays to find?

This stop, I am hunger
The deep well of a stranger held
And this heart, a lonely hunter now
I´m lost on this road, are there any real sundays to find?
I´m lost on this road, are there any real souls?
Are there any real souls to find?
Are there any real souls to find?