Carried on the Wind - Allan Taylor, Hans-Joerg Maucksch, Chris Leslie

It’s cold along the coast tonight

The wind is on the rise

There’s a storm come up from Africa

And it’s tearing up the skies

The sand from the Sahara

Cuts deep into your skin

Close your eyes so you cannot see

What’s carried on the wind, the wind

What’s carried on the wind

People talk in whispers

People hide their eyes

The wind blows ever stronger

And it covers their cries

They close down the shutters

They bar the door

The wind taps at the window

Like a painted whore, the whore

Like a painted whore

I will hold you close tonight

I will keep you warm

I will keep the dream alive

And stand against the storm

As long as I am able I will not bend

I will be true to you

And faithful to the end, the end

And faithful to the end

When the final bell is tolled

Will we shake in fear

Or raise our glass just one more time

Pretend we didn’t hear

We think that we’re immortal

Somehow the song lives on

Maybe whistled in the wind

When everything is gone, is gone

When everything is gone