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Wounded spirits
Of the human kind,
Haunting the holy sites
Of a past time !
Whispering prayers,
In an ancient language,
They don�t hear anymore
The march of the ages.

Looking around I can feel they were here:
The men coming from a lost time.
Lay(ing) on the ground, I can hear in the wind
Voices calling from a lost time.

They dry their tears,
As they see what became
The earth of ancestors
Where they had a name.
Now lonely souls
With only the memory,
We have in our blood
A part of their story.

Looking around I can feel they were here:
The men coming from a lost time.
Lay(ing) on the ground, I can hear in the wind
Voices calling from a lost time.

My body
Is here,
But my soul
Is lost in the maze of time.
I see
The future,
The past and the scenes of my life,
And I
Wonder why
My soul is torn between these times.

Wounded spirits
Of the human kind,
Haunting the holy sites
Of a past time !
Whispering prayers,
In an ancient language,
They don�t hear anymore
The march of the ages.

Looking around I can feel they were here:
The men coming from a lost time.
Lay(ing) on the ground, I can hear in the wind
Voices calling from a lost time.

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