The Wounded Kings - Invocation Of The Ancients текст песни

The prophets gaze on Akkadian skies
Cities crumble, all will die...

Last of the ancients beneath the tide
Unknown grave from ruins arise

Awaken from sleep, reclaim what has gone
Black cloak burns on a blazing throne

Prophets gaze to the burning skies...
Rise from the ashes, where Atlantis lies