She sings.
An eternal song of Zion, a ghostly chime in my lair, the sweet serene entice so pure.
She of me and I Her, our timeless vibration of silver sparrows and myrrh.
Song of kings, on their knees, the spice falling from Her golden hair.
The spinning fire, out of sleep, I dance on ice in cold night air.
An eternal song of Zion, a ghostly chime in my lair, the sweet serene entice so pure.
She of me and I Her, our timeless vibration of silver sparrows and myrrh.
Song of kings, on their knees, the spice falling from Her golden hair.
The spinning fire, out of sleep, I dance on ice in cold night air.