Paroles de A Sophic Fire

I, the ancient philosopher Has laid his hands on your shoulders I welcome you, the tired and misunderstood Release yourself from this hell that is all your own Fear not fire or brimstone Fear idle hands and minds Fear not phantoms or wraiths Fear the plains that shine Mirrors your heart End this harping of the same old chords Torment awaits for those who linger in the past Reverence is the virtue of the damned End this journey in his field His permeating cold field Lift the mist from of your minds Surrender to the domain of the soul End your existence in this realm Cease to be the object of ridicule I, the ancient philosopher Has laid his hands on your shoulders I welcome you, the tired and misunderstood Release yourself from this hell that is all your own