Bruce Dickinson - Fire

From the golden brow of a morning hill The shadows rise in the early still The earth is cracked and the dust is cold The embers glow and the fire is old Mountains in the sky, Lightning cracks the night Shivering in the cold till the morning light I know this time around, I'm traveling on holy ground I've robbed the ghosts, I've heard the sound So i ride on into the sun With the shadows of the deeds That were done I can't imagine what it was to be alive The magic is still in the hills Watch the fire child grow Riding on the wind, Burning through your heart The parliament Indian mission Slowly rips apart Promises made, then willows laid And the world was thrown From the barrel of a gun