In the shadows of black rocks
Under the overhang of roots and snakes'nests
There He used to sit and sing
He sang his songs
Which nobody understood...
He was old hundred, two hundred
three hundred years?
Nobody knew it
Maybe for thousand of years
He has been in this world
Maybe for thousand of years
He has been in this world...
His eyes were dark
But it was owing to wisdom and something mysterious
They sparked and panetrated everything
When He played on his instrument
The sky grew dark and wind became silent
Over stony planes only wind runs
And mysterious shadows whisper their stories
Many of them He told at His rock
And I lived them all with Him
Under the overhang of roots and snakes'nests
There He used to sit and sing
He sang his songs
Which nobody understood...
He was old hundred, two hundred
three hundred years?
Nobody knew it
Maybe for thousand of years
He has been in this world
Maybe for thousand of years
He has been in this world...
His eyes were dark
But it was owing to wisdom and something mysterious
They sparked and panetrated everything
When He played on his instrument
The sky grew dark and wind became silent
Over stony planes only wind runs
And mysterious shadows whisper their stories
Many of them He told at His rock
And I lived them all with Him