A stranger once whispered: A fallen angel is someone not aware of his authentic identity Because the fall occured nowhere except on the inner plains And the broken wing was nothing but the bleeding memory
The creators of the prophecies Have seen pages yet unturned From a book that can not be read Or expressed from mouths of scorn
Observing the divine marriage Between the solid soil and the ether Step on the lightnings and ascend
On the topmost step of the earth Stepping on the belt that surrounds the sphere
Endless are the joys of the infinite quest For the timeless explorer And the child that lurks inside
On the topmost step of the earth Stepping on the belt that surrounds the sphere
A billion toys to play, countless more to invent In the mental playground, around its solid tree
The creators of the prophecies Have seen pages yet unturned From a book that can not be read Or expressed from mouths of scorn On the topmost step of the earth
On the topmost step of the earth... Stepping on the belt that surrounds the sphere