When you point a compass blind
You're surprised at how you'll find
That the compass points to nowhere,
Just the corridor of time.
Where a kingdom once forboding
Stands now faceless and eroding
From the burning and the churning
Of the unforgiving sand.
Can you hear it? Are you listening?
Do you fully understand?
Can you hear the angry protest
In the endless stretch of sand?

It's a tale that's often told,
Of a King twice vain and bold
And his people who were vanquished
In a city built of gold.
Once these wonderous sights were daunting,
But are now a whispered haunting
In the glowing and the flowing
of the never ending sand.
Can you hear it? Are you listening?
Do you fully understand?
Can you hear the rising torment
In the wretched drifting sand?

Born a king from mother's womb
Did this ruler seal his doom
With his cruel and sinful passions
Serving sentries for his tomb.
What he once so proudly claimed
Would become his cumbered chain
Made of twisting and resisting
Dunes of desecrating sand.
Can you hear it? Are you listening?
Do you fully understand?
Can you hear the painful torture
In the unforgiving sand?

Now there's nothing left to mourn.
Only memories forlorn.
You can hear the lamentations
Of the people's labored scorn.
For the King who once did boast
That his reign forever host
Now is crumbling and is tumbling
Under hostile drifting sand.
Can you hear it? Are you listening?
Do you fully understand?
Can you hear the tortured prayers
Through the silence of the sand?