The wind it blows this time of year, it chills my soul and all my tears.
And I don’t know how we got here, my friend.
Wars may end but memories kill. They say they won’t but they always will.
And one more time straight up that hill, again.
I know these hills
Ash into ash, dust into dust
Father to son, seal and a rust
Time comes a calling, and we all rise up
I know these hills