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