Lyrics & Music: Ian Mcleish
 

1.
Time folds itself and turns around -  in the halls of history;
Ghostly echoes, without a sound - in the walls of mystery;
Thoughts and vibrations from ages past -
Whirling in the corners behind their masks;
Prophets and sages, brave kings' attack -
Pull back the veil and see - into the halls of history.

2.
Such an elegant piece of stone-  in the wall of mystery;
It's beauty lingers though the makers' unknown  - in the halls of history;
Down through the eons the story unfolds -
Each generation turning lead into gold;
Fortunes are bought and fortunes are sold -
In your hand you hold the key - to the halls of history.

Bridge.
Each statues' a story, each painting a prayer -
Each work has a wonder, unique memories to share;
The uncounted millions who lived and who died -
Their passions are gone, but their work has survived -
Only their art left behind...

3.
Though your life seems important to you - in this march of misery;
When you are dust will your message get through - to the halls of history?
Mighty armies one day fall to the ground -
Vast corporations, foundations unsound -
When you are dust, the word gets around;
Were you too blind to see?
Or did you make it into the halls of history?
 

Copyright: 1990 Ian Mcleish
Published: 1990 McMusic Ltd.  CAPAC
Renewed: 1994 Mousehole music  SOCAN