When you were Santorin, you were once worshipped as a fire king,
South of Naxos, shaped by Sirocco heat,
Far above, surfacing the sea of Crete - your feet.
Long gone, hallow the cone,
Volcano down to the stones.
I was born to sail the Cyclades,
Marble islands sang like an Aegean breeze, (starlight, starlight)
I was drawn by the myth of your monolith, like a perfect face is drawn by the scar,
And was caught in the pour from a blast in the core, like a super-heated samovar - that's all you are.
Long gone, hollow the cone,
Volcano down to the stones,
Its shadow stealing the sun,
Long live the tears - see how they run.
Gone,
Follow my own volcano down to the stones,
Its shadow stealing the sun,
Long live the tears - see how they run,
So long,
As the memory burns, you should know I'll never return,
Shadowed places to run,
For so many years stealing the sun.
Bring back the sun.
Bring back the sun,
Bring back the sun,
Bring back the sun,
Bring back the sun.
