As I remember all the days of history,
Laden heavy with the burden of proof,
Scarcely have I mentioned travels,
Down into the emptiness that was the truth.
Dreading all the tales that lingered
And the probing into things long dead,
Still I speak of what was once the way,
Or so these ancient sriptures once have said.
The earth was hollow and an echo chamber,
Where had rested all the peoples long ago,
Waiting patiently for the day of resurrection,
And the moon that lost its haunting glow.
How long they slept in those deep caverns,
None alive in this hollow earth can tell.
So I am calling on long memories of history,
Where men have scrawled an oath as well.
The Star had died the moon was gone away,
And many were the eons past spent to ponder,
The vagabonds and dreamers set to spin,
And all the lives of empty hope sent to wander.
So that is how the Hollow Earth is empty,
The dust of ages drifts across the weary land,
And I am left to sift among the ash of ages,
Then let it flow like rivelets through my hand.