From a sacred and a shattered land,
to the people who’s lives lay in your hands
From the poems of your life,
to a land of burning fire
To the sound of the funeral bell
as another human dies
To the man who has no answer
from the book of explaination
Sacred world, sacred world
To the man who burys babies,
in one foot of barren soil
They have no silk or velvet,
only rags of their desire
They’ll never hear the laughter,
or see their children’s smile
They’ll never know,
never know the meaning of life
Sacred world, sacred world