Awaken in the silent night.
Alone, inland hysteria
I am a stranger in this land
Here I kneel before you
Oh, solemn glory
Standing together on the hill
Nothing is spoken, but yet understood
Below, a procession of wooden men
Swinging their tree trunks in the wind
The white birches are alive, they are marching
Alone, inland hysteria
I am a stranger in this land
Here I kneel before you
Oh, solemn glory
Standing together on the hill
Nothing is spoken, but yet understood
Below, a procession of wooden men
Swinging their tree trunks in the wind
The white birches are alive, they are marching