A.l.a Music - The Crimson Desert

Listen to the wind.
It knows your name.
The clock opens up the golden gate.
We are running from the hands of fate.
An ancient doubt begins to speak.
For the answers that we always seek.
Drive away beneath the eastern sky.
We don't even need to question why.
Let the deep house rhythm heal your mind.
Leaving all the broken days behind.
Through the desert mist and heavy air.
We are floating free from any care.
Hypnotic harmonies begin to grow.