We awake to the sand on our skin,
awake to the strangest terrain.
This place, a land of ancient minds and of memories.
Through the fog we forget who we are,
held the earth with our eyes as the stars.
Now we're ghosts, like a ghost,
wander into this desert, desert of night.
Child, you are born of the earth,
the lost wanderers curse.
The sand of the storm.
Oh, in the heart of the demon.
Lost ourselves in the eyes of the beast.
(In the eyes of the beast!)
People of this wicked world,
don't you recognize me, my brother?
We no longer hear our sons,
what fate has become of our daughters?
An unfamiliar face,
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oh, this family fades into strangers.
Seven silent phantoms march,
in this desert now and forever.
But weren't we all part of the orbit?
We were, the fathers and the mothers
of the children of the sea,
the sea, the sky, the earth.
None of this,
no, now none of this,
seems like memories.
They are dreams of lives before.
When a kingdom made of glass
shattered to the finest sands.
Where the phantoms haunt the land,
and they wander aimlessly,
through this world.