When I walk through the forested halls,
and listen closely to the silence,
I can sometimes hear the calls
or songs of those who live in the dense
vines and plants that line the castle walls
built for the ancient city's defense.

And the voices are like that of those
Who sing underneath the sea
In songs of lyric sweet and prose
That tell stories of their country
Below the waves, where children doze
And men watch over their city's key.

At the bottom of the sea there is no light
Unlike the towers in the clouds that float.
Ethereal and glittering, they make their flight
In the sky, just like a mighty sailboat.
Crystal and silver and shades of white,
They shine as the bells sing the final note.