Blood blood all around
   The land is crying out
   All men are dead underneath the sands
   And noone understands
  
   Gold gold all is sold
   Ten thousands have been slain
   They stole their gold and destroyed their souls
   The prayers were all in vain
  
   War war behind the shore
   All men are on the run
   They burned the earth until there
   But a wasteland in the sun
   A wasteland in the sun
  
   But there's the albatross
   Flying circles through the wind
   The silent master of this land
   Far beyond the Southern Cross
   Nobody heard his cries
   Wailing sadly through the skies
   Now his voice from up above
   Is slowly dying
  
   Home home we wanna go home
   The beach is bleak and empty
   All has burnt to ashes
   Nothing will grow
   We wanna go home
  
   But there's the albatross
   Flying circles through the wind
   The silent master of this land
   Far beyond the Southern Cross
   Nobody heard his cries
   Wailing sadly through the skies
   Now his voice from up above
   Is slowly dying
   There's just the albatross
   Flying . . .