Peter Trewavas - El Dorado (V) The Grandchildren of Apes lyrics

Metal in the air Brimstone in the lungs Breathe deeply of it The wind is carrying the pictures The rain is muttering the names The wind-chimes in my garden ring like keys To all the stolen doors We are the grandchildren of apes, not angels But only we are gifted with the eyes to see On days without F E A R, when our heads are clear That angels, we could be