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Born in England, religious raised |
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A hazy dream the world to face |
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Indifferent to joy and pain, no measuring |
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Never ending games |
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Ride, only ride on the wings of the desert storm (and your) |
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Pride, burning pride, its hunger's fed when yourself is gone |
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He tired to join the army then |
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He was denied, they had too much men |
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He studied then the ancient times |
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Digging up relics and signs [Pre...] |
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Karkamish was where it all began |
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He joined on armies' service then |
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The Suez-Channel was to banned [Pre...] |
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The ghost, the gallant rider on the edge of the desert storm |
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A miracle written in the sand, the desert plans for eternity |
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Feisal was the only chance |
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To join the tribes to cross |
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Turkish plans |
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Aqaba was the mighty key |
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To end the siege to make them free [Pre & Chorus...] "I will go if you will go to cross the deadly plains" "I am here, the world to show what you are able to face" |
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The sand is grinding the face |
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Dust is clouding their trace |
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The sun burns out their mind |
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Slowly, like the sand rules the time |
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Wing of dark, vultures fly |
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The wind, the last battle cry ' |
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Aqaba' He lived his life of tragedy without a home |
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No place to flee |
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Distracted soul caught in its face, from the start |
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Without a chance |
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He tried to free |
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Arabia from its siege |
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But he'd gone to far |
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He paid his price on the desert plains |
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He'd lost his soul, he'd lost his trace [Pre & Chorus...] |
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The ghost the gallant soldier, |
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A splitted soul game with the wind |
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His mind was bound to the western world |
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His heart belongs to the desert plains eternally! |
