Lyrics

I hear the haunting sounds of early morning,
Like the whisper from the grave,
Then the solitude becomes my only partner,
As the church bell slowly fades.
I’m walking down the black path, past the evergreen
And highways to the sun,
And those misty sounding echoes from the caves
On these Canonberry Days.

The river has become a mirrored glass,
Still this Eden is not home,
I’m a stranger coming from another past,
And I’ll just keep moving on.
I’m no Reaper, yet I do profess a knowledge
Of the future yet to come,
Yet still I have no need to talk of others,
On these Canonberry Days.

On these Canonberry Days,
These Canonberry Days,
On these Canonberry Days,
These Canonberry Days.

I wear the scars of all my adulation,
Like a warrior of old,
And though the sun will try to bring me warmth,
My heart remains so cold.
A shadow on a landscape,
A prisoner of a destiny untold,
A spirit of illusion,
A hand that cannot touch the need it holds.

On these Canonberry Days,
These Canonberry Days,
On these Canonberry Days,
These Canonberry Days.

A fleeting glance without the chance to tell you
Why I journey on through time,
But these words of inspiration can be taken
To mean more than who I am.

On these Canonberry Days,
These Canonberry Days,
On these Canonberry Days,
These Canonberry Days.