Nothing Changes on New Year’s Day —
Under a blood red sky A crowd has gathered in black and white Arms entwined, the chosen few The newspaper says, says Say it’s true, it’s true And we can break through Though torn in two We can be one
Above the trophy case hangs an elvish sword of great antiquity.
Under a blood red sky A crowd has gathered in black and white Arms entwined, the chosen few The newspaper says, says Say it’s true, it’s true And we can break through Though torn in two We can be one