By Martin Falatic
Written 2009-02-25
Revised 2010-08-10

The witches don’t know what they are
The prophets disbelieve in their art
The priests take coins as a grace
The bastards still rise to the top

What world, what world, is ever so lost?
What light, what magic can be?
What world, what world, is ever so lost?
That only the blind heart can see?

Slid into a sacred embrace
Hands surprisingly strong
Sharp nails pricked the skin
A kiss, a vanishing face…

What world, what world, is ever so lost?
What hope, what trust can there be?
What world, what world, is ever so lost?
That only the hidden can see?

Walked for miles under the sun
With nothing but sand all around
Walked for miles under the moon
My path, the water did drown

What world, what world, is ever so lost?
What wraith in shadows can be?
What world, what world, is ever so lost?
That only the lost souls can see?