On Athe’s dusty fields
Where walls stand silent in the sun
The traveler knocks on the gates
And hears the echo’s
Ring out between the empty streets
But he does not shed a tear
For in his body
There is nothing left to flow
Until he sees her
On Athe’s dusty fields
Where walls stand silent in the sun
The traveler knocks on the gates
And hears the echo’s
Ring out between the empty streets
But he does not shed a tear
For in his body
There is nothing left to flow
Until he sees her