Somewhere far beyond the seas
Between rotten thoughts and eternal screams
There's a place near the sunset miles
A moorland born in fearful dreams

Wise men told us about these fields
The land between the calm and the storm
The wasted land that our fathers damned
The land in which mysteries were born

We have been told to spend our lives there
In the seclusion of eternal snow
I guess they maybe didn't know
Yet there's always hope between ebb and flow

Years we've been waiting for the day
That our prayers will be heard
So that damnation has an end
That we're prepared to return
To leave the fear
To leave the past
To demand
Satisfaction for our life at last

Back from the fields
Back from the past
Back from the place
The place you'd forgotten too fast
Back from the moor
Cold and wet
Back from the fields
The fields that we shall never forget