Years of prophecy
Dreams or truthful stories.
Might of ancestry behind
Is it fabulous tale, or maybe just myth
What we must sing
About concern, about joy?
What we must praise in our hymns
Warriors' courage and valour, or firmness?
Field is wide, we can't see edge
The way is long, can't see it's end
We can't find night sky down, can't touch the stars.
Gorgeous sunshine didn't prompt
Bright crescent didn't advise
And soothsayers were laid down
Our memory turned, now it's all false
Where are you gone, magicians
Who instructed us of living
Who can give us real knowledge
What is worth to hymning.
Field is wide, we can't see edge
The way is long, can't see it's end
We can't find night sky down, can't touch the stars.
Memory of a nation.
There are the songs of what we don't know
There were the days of the great glory
And were the days of the defeats
Heroes and mongrels.
There are the songs of what we don't know
There were the days of the great glory
And were the days of defeats
Where are you gone, magicians.
Where are you gone?

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