Dead Can Dance

The drums are pounding,

the horns are blowing,

cymbals sing and trumpets triumph.

The echo from times long past

vibrates deeply from within;

makes my heart dance,

takes me away from the here, the now;

takes me away to what once was,

maybe to what will be again.

This is life’s own heart beat;

this is life’s own spirit.

I’m swept away in its powerful blood stream,

and I don’t care to fight it.

I grow one with the past;

I am the drum; I am the horn;

I am the cymbal; I am the trumpet;

I am the echo;

I am,

and time is no more.

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