Listen closely when mountains speak
And skies turn gray like elders
Thera quakes to clear her slate
We will itch her skin no longer
Our island spits in disgust, not enough ships for us
If only we had gills, we may have escaped
Thera will be felt still thousands of years from now
We have her ash in our pores still to this day
Flocks of fire nested upon these homes
Like the hooks we bait, Akrotiri was swallowed
Millennia have passed and we still trip over her ash
Thera will be felt still thousands of years from now
We have her ash in our pores still to this day
