Plains of Samarkand

I was standing on the plains of Samarkand
Looking up at the peaks of the Andes
It was cold and it was dark and
A black eagle was coming into land, he's
The symbol of fire and of anger
The marque of injustice and oppression
His fierce look spells fear and danger
And in his beak he holds the lesson His prey is a tiny mammal
Still warm for a moment before
His tiny heart beat like a hammer
In terror in that giant claw
Now the eagle devours him sans mercy
And then he flies up to the sky
and the prisoners wait for the curse he
Will spring upon all those who cry Out and ask for their fate to be programmed
By the great computer of time
And released, though they know they'll be no grand
Finale to this life of crime
All over the world they are waiting
In a wretchedness quite beyond belief
In the steppes in an orgy of hating
In the sea on a lone coral reef I was standing on the plains of Samarkand
And the clouds gather deep for the storm
It was cold and dark and
Nothing escapes from it's form
And the eagle soars away in the distance
And a voice cries out loud and clear
saying, "there we all go by some mischance
Unless we can conquer our fear!"

by Peter Brown  © Chinta Music, 1981