| 作词 : Burns, Convertino | |
| Sonic wind, honing in, on a tune that no one can hear | |
| Perfect pitch, simple glitch, promises it would never appear | |
| In the skies, disguised | |
| Change in direction where birds never fly nor roam | |
| Lie 'neath green valleys and wait for the call to come | |
| Firetail bats, poised to attack | |
| To set ablaze the rafters and the roofs | |
| Until the plan leaves the hand | |
| Burns the site down to the ground | |
| Through the ground | |
| Craters are carving and wounds are left to weep | |
| Sink to the table filtering through the years | |
| Closing behind the nightmarish fears that run deep | |
| Down in green valleys wait for the call to come | |
| When it's all over and the empty quarter | |
| Returns to the emptiness again | |
| 5000 miles over airplane graveyards | |
| Landmass oceans wide. Over continents | |
| A sonic wind honing in on a tune no one can hear | |
| Perfect pitch, simple glitch, promises | |
| Over the skies - in disguise | |
| Change in direction | |
| A sonic wind is blowing | |
| And the fire it is burning | |
| Down in green valleys where birds never fly nor roam | |
| Over airplane graveyards, wait for the call to come | |
| And the sonic wind is whistling |
| zuo ci : Burns, Convertino | |
| Sonic wind, honing in, on a tune that no one can hear | |
| Perfect pitch, simple glitch, promises it would never appear | |
| In the skies, disguised | |
| Change in direction where birds never fly nor roam | |
| Lie ' neath green valleys and wait for the call to come | |
| Firetail bats, poised to attack | |
| To set ablaze the rafters and the roofs | |
| Until the plan leaves the hand | |
| Burns the site down to the ground | |
| Through the ground | |
| Craters are carving and wounds are left to weep | |
| Sink to the table filtering through the years | |
| Closing behind the nightmarish fears that run deep | |
| Down in green valleys wait for the call to come | |
| When it' s all over and the empty quarter | |
| Returns to the emptiness again | |
| 5000 miles over airplane graveyards | |
| Landmass oceans wide. Over continents | |
| A sonic wind honing in on a tune no one can hear | |
| Perfect pitch, simple glitch, promises | |
| Over the skies in disguise | |
| Change in direction | |
| A sonic wind is blowing | |
| And the fire it is burning | |
| Down in green valleys where birds never fly nor roam | |
| Over airplane graveyards, wait for the call to come | |
| And the sonic wind is whistling |
| zuò cí : Burns, Convertino | |
| Sonic wind, honing in, on a tune that no one can hear | |
| Perfect pitch, simple glitch, promises it would never appear | |
| In the skies, disguised | |
| Change in direction where birds never fly nor roam | |
| Lie ' neath green valleys and wait for the call to come | |
| Firetail bats, poised to attack | |
| To set ablaze the rafters and the roofs | |
| Until the plan leaves the hand | |
| Burns the site down to the ground | |
| Through the ground | |
| Craters are carving and wounds are left to weep | |
| Sink to the table filtering through the years | |
| Closing behind the nightmarish fears that run deep | |
| Down in green valleys wait for the call to come | |
| When it' s all over and the empty quarter | |
| Returns to the emptiness again | |
| 5000 miles over airplane graveyards | |
| Landmass oceans wide. Over continents | |
| A sonic wind honing in on a tune no one can hear | |
| Perfect pitch, simple glitch, promises | |
| Over the skies in disguise | |
| Change in direction | |
| A sonic wind is blowing | |
| And the fire it is burning | |
| Down in green valleys where birds never fly nor roam | |
| Over airplane graveyards, wait for the call to come | |
| And the sonic wind is whistling |
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