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Up on the ground
where the migthy rain
does not to fall
Slowly hands
shakes the golden sand
in a clock, seeking the time

Without home
this bird has flown
longtime ago
To nowhere land
a dark horizon
drawn by the moon

The sound of bell
in the haunted hall
announcing the night
It's a wish of hell
grow a damned seed
in a cup of wine

Crystal soul
dance around the pyre
of the golden dawn
It's a kind
of heritage
from the ancient sand

A million miles from distant skies
radiation of a diferent sun
In the greenfield a crop circle
leaving a message of another race.

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