You'll find me sitting at this table with my friend Fin and my friend John
My friend Murdaney tells us stories of things long gone lone gone
And we may take a glass together the whisky makes it all so clear
It fires our dulled imagination and I feel so near

I feel so near to the howling of the wind
Feel so near to the crashing of the waves
Feel so near to the flowers in the field
Feel so near

The old man looks out to the island he says this place is endless thin
There's no real distance here to mention we might all fall in all fall in
No distance to the spirits of the living no distance to the spirits of the dead
And as he turned his eyes were shining and he proudly said proudly said

I feel so near to the howling of the wind
Feel so near to the crashing of the waves
Feel so near to the flowers in the field
Feel so near

So we build our tower constructions there to mark our place in time
We justify our great destructions as on we climb on we climb
Now the journey doesn't seem to matter the destination's faded out
And gathering out along the headland I hear the children shout children shout

I feel so near to the howling of the wind
Feel so near to the crashing of the waves
Feel so near to the flowers in the field
Feel so near