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