Original lyrics
ENEmptied hands of black hills,
Washed with gold
Wasted sun
That God is so sad and young
Sea is old, the sea is old
Is this over?
Looking over, reaching over, rushing over
At least these scars are wounds that healed
EN
EN
EN
EN
EN
EN
EN
EN 
EN 
PT 
EN
EN 
EN 
EN
EN
EN