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 turned

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 turned

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