Finally the hills are without eyes
最终山丘不被注视
They are tired of painting
他们疲于绘画
A dead man's face red
亡者的脸
With their own blood
以他们的血液
We used to love
我们过去常喜欢
I want my tears back
我想再一次热泪盈眶
The treetops, the chimneys
那些树梢,那些烟囱
The snowbed stories, winter grey
灰色冬天,那被雪覆盖的故事。
Wildflowers, those meadows of heaven
花之盛开,草之天堂
Wind in the wheat
风吹麦田