Hey, do you know where you're going?
Have you noticed its snowing,
Although it is June?
They, said your weakness was growing,
That your rapture was showing,
Just a little too soon.
But under these mountains,
The nights and the shadows grow long.
The stars up above you feel wrong.
This is not your sky.
Pray, to a strange constellation.
Thank God for your isolation,
This forever goodbye.

Dawn, throws its light on the covers.
In this bed there's another,
Asleep at your side.
Gone, the embrace of a lover,
And the fire you discovered,
Already has died.
Her body recoils,
As your hand goes to touch her again.
She's a temple that won't let you in.
At her side you're alone.
On her back is the same constellation,
Confirming your alienation.
No this flesh is not home.

You, carry a vague conviction,
This life rose from an eviction,
Out of your homeland. [bad word]  but it's also addiction,
To this soft [bad word] 
Under these foreign hands.
And like all Christs before you,
You kneel down beneath the night sky,
To look into your father's eyes,
And only feel lost. [bad word] to a strange constellation,
new king awaits coronation,
But there will be no great revelation,
Your journey is your destination,
And [bad word] could be your salvation,
Here, under the Southern Cross.