There's an underground neighborhood
An answer to all prayers
Candles burning bright below
With endless fields upstairs
Faded smoke like memories
Now rising from the earth
Ghosts of ancient history
Feint whisper of our birth
I've seen Ordek's Necropolis
Like a pile of wind blown sand
A wall of twisted sticks, undone
Once built. . . for one woman
But hiding from the desert sun
The bizaar of Isfahan
Though grass and trees grow twice as strong
Where empty castles stand
