Lyrics
Poets, priests, and visionaries rallied to the call,
The will of humankind defined them all
Coveting the gold and silver idols of success,
only to perpetuate the rest
Every king's assassinated silently at bay,
Counting down until it's Holy Day
Artifacts of ancient wisdom buried in the Sand,
Hastily upturned to clear the land
Now I ain't going to claim to be the Second Son,
I love my follow man,
But I hate what you've become,
It goes on, and on, and on, and on, and on,
To calculate the Universe is further from divine,
But can we comprehend all that we find?
Artifacts of ancient wisdom buried in the Sand,
Affective d and denied by us again,
Now I ain't going to calculate stones to sea,
I love my follow man,
And I love what you could be,
It goes on, and on, and on, and on, and on,
