A Song, a moon, a melody, a harp of ten strings
A poem of renaissance glory, of Pallas Athena fame.
A star in eastern skylines, a prophesy in tongues
Scrying through the crystal oceans... looking for a home.
Cutting through the mountains, wretching gashes in the earth
We are searching for a memory,
To tell us who we were.
Finding sense in insense,
Finding truth in pain,
Finding only bloodshed,
Find no water in the rain.
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