Makda

They're trembling and shouting with eyes turned white
To the beat of drums

They're stretching their arms to point at the sky
Where Makda hears their cries

And slowly they are rising to the stars

Years of battles and wars
And they're still dancing wild

And behind the hills she's still hiding
Her soul is as old as the rain
And the tales are maybe forgotten
And so are her thousands of names
But her greatness still remains

Inside the cicle horns are burnt
The flames light up the night

They're chanting the name of the one who gave birth
To the sun, the moon and the stars

And the wind is singing lonely from afar

The flood washed away their temples and graves
But somewhere they're still praying

And behind the hills she's still hiding
Her soul is as old as the rain
And the tales are maybe forgotten
And so are her thousands of names
But her greatness still remains