Translated by A. Z. Foreman - Creator lyrics

Borders can close us off or bring us close. With Offa's Dyke that cleaves one land in two, Each living soul must soon choose one of those. A Sunday stroll alone; the lane that goes Between the many Them and Us the few. Borders can close us off or bring us close. The voice of guns as a fraught nation blows. The voice of children with no rage or clue. Each living soul must soon choose one of those. And in the end the picture that it shows: A world with nothing left for guns to do. Borders can close us off or bring us close. Dry acres, greened by tears, where healing grows- Or wounds endeared to rage that wants its due. Each living soul must soon choose one of those. The birthright of shared blood and song that knows Nothing at all of why, or where, or who. Borders can close us off or bring us close. Each living soul must soon choose one of those.