Harps Of The Ancient Temples

Listen, purify your bloodstained hands
And the dust from all these flesh-stained lands
Wanderer, cleanse your blinded eyes
Wander, unleash your silent cries

A ceremonial under moonshine
A river floats like bloodred whine
All my live here out of my veins
The ancient temples demand to purify

Neither flesh nor blood shall cross this sacred ledge
For I am the spirit of the ancient stones
I am the strings of the ancient tones

For I am the spirit of the ancient stones
I am the strings of the ancient tones
I am the truth of the spoken word
I am the light behind the sleeping world