Root The Mysterical Words Of The Wise
During the sleep like Black Butterflies they'll come flying The old secrets they whisper to us. The Magic Words out of the Space springing Glowing fog - the Silver temple. Covered with dust, bones of the old Wisemen Sing a song of their ancient ancestors. The Magi understand the mysterious words They paint Signs - the parchment turns yellow. But still we are at a deep sleep We don't know the Words for waking up. The Beam of Eternity makes us sleep - why? The mind is alive - cold frost. But one time the Mystical Words will come to life (Men en dag vil de Mystiske Ordene komme till live) wake up the Demons break the peace (vekke Demonene bryte freden) The Butterflies will fly away, the Knowledge will stay The moonlith of Wisdom will shine through the night
