Il testo della Saint nothing

Lift, lift your hand
Myth, so pristine and white with age.
Walk with me sweetl
Saint, i don't know your name
But your voice, so strong
It speaks through the glass
It speaks through the ground
An empty phrase, a hollow sound
Calm, quite severe
Leave the throne
Your mind so clear, i feel no pain
And then so near, i taste the blood
How long, how long?
How long, how long?