Texty: Fears Of John B.. Echo. Sands Of Nothing.

The pale of burning hot sand
Blows into my face
I drowned in Nyle
I see the mighty sphynx

Thieves of knowledge
Thieves of truth

Men in shrouds
Made concrete
For fake and lies
Slaves...

We had enough of this
We have a power to strike back
Both of the pyramids will melt
I hope it will be pretty soon

Beacons must fade
Empires must fall
Blinded shall see
Prepare..

The sun is setting down


(Thanks to rambutanic for these lyrics)