Open my eyes and see the faith in an old prelude
Turning the ways so strange, strange
Discovering stones like fire in my ways
Never imagine, these stones are made...

Ilusions eyes, near lost past, a magic behind
Sanity to be your sprouts, they are calling your soul
They are the magic eyes
Like a fantasy
We are a litlle prouds and ubelivers
On this way discovering fate and pain

The old prophet reading his hands
We are acused of darkness
Our eyes are blind and can’t feel the life
Dissidents are fallen on the road

Saying preys of a distant future
We are paying our sins and they knows about this
You could try to cry all our blood
And still our lifes would be defined

We are going to cure our sins
To the glorious Jerusalem
And therem our scars will be cured