The Song Remains

Ooh. Ooh. Ooh. Yeah. Ooh.

Once we walked in the hills of Sepharad, where the olive trees whispered our

name. Candles lit the Sabbath night. But the winds of hate,

they came. They tore down the walls of our memory

and cast us to the sea. With scrolls in hand, we prayed to

stand. But it's our decree. From Sepharad to chains,

through the fire and rain, they tried to steal our names, but the song

remains. Oh, the song remains. Yeah. Oh,