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, long gone And we may take a gla** together The whisky makes it all so clear It fires our dulled imaginations And I feel so near, so near I feel so near to the howling of the winds I feel so near to the crashing of the waves I feel so near to the flowers in the fields I feel so near The old man looks out to the islands 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 winds I feel so near to the crashing of the waves I feel so near to the flowers in the fields I 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 winds I feel so near to the crashing of the waves I feel so near to the flowers in the fields I feel so near