The moon homes the light
And the moon's a spinning globe
Shedding light upon the road
The birds were flying
And a bird without its wings is a low and tragic thing
We are ghosts
We are ghosts amongst these hills
From the trees around and green
To the ground beneath our feet
We are ghosts
We are ghosts amongst these hills
Pressing out along the shore
Pressing out along the shore
(Unsure of line)
(Unsure of line)
And is only to be heard
And now I'm gone
I will come again in Spring
And the harvest can begin
We are ghosts
We are ghosts amongst these hills
From the trees of life and green
To the ground beneath our feet
We are ghosts
We are ghosts amongst these hills
Pressing out along the shore
Pressing out along the shore
And the moon's a spinning globe
Shedding light upon the road
The birds were flying
And a bird without its wings is a low and tragic thing
We are ghosts
We are ghosts amongst these hills
From the trees around and green
To the ground beneath our feet
We are ghosts
We are ghosts amongst these hills
Pressing out along the shore
Pressing out along the shore
(Unsure of line)
(Unsure of line)
And is only to be heard
And now I'm gone
I will come again in Spring
And the harvest can begin
We are ghosts
We are ghosts amongst these hills
From the trees of life and green
To the ground beneath our feet
We are ghosts
We are ghosts amongst these hills
Pressing out along the shore
Pressing out along the shore