Allan Taylor Carried On The Wind (feat. Maartin Allcock, Chris Leslie & Hans-joerg Maucksch)
It's cold along the coast tonight
The wind is on the rise
There's a storm come up from Africa
And it's tearing up the skies
The sand from the Sahara
Cuts deep into your skin
Close your eyes so you cannot see
What's carried on the wind, the wind
What's carried on the wind
People talk in whispers
People hide their eyes
The wind blows ever stronger
And it covers their cries
They close down the shutters
They bar the door
The wind taps at the window
Like a painted whore, the whore
Like a painted whore
I will hold you close tonight
I will keep you warm
I will keep the dream alive
And stand against the storm
As long as I am able I will not bend
I will be true to you
And faithful to the end, the end
And faithful to the end
When the final bell is tolled
Will we shake in fear
Or raise our glass just one more time
Pretend we didn't hear
We think that we're immortal
Somehow the song lives on
Maybe whistled in the wind
When everything is gone, is gone
When everything is gone
