You play The ride of the valkyries
I play Conquest of paradise
You drive down Mulholland
I go through my village to the moor
Your landscapes are mountains
And deserts, lands open of fear
My hillsides are for shepherds
For winds, and cheek red tears
I turn, full round in either direction
In this twilight the twinkles
Of the cities illuminate the depths
Of the valleys, indicate the journeys
To the centres of our earths
