I am the ink on the vellum page
Watching the world in a gilded cage
I feel the press of a heavy hand
Mapping the lines of a foreign land
Golden age in a paper sea
Writing the laws of a dynasty
Build up the walls and the marble height
Holding the flame in the dead of night
I saw the settlers in wool and hide
Turning the soil where the spirits bide
I felt the weight of the iron crown
Bringing the old city walls crashing down
Golden age in a paper sea
Writing the laws of a dynasty
Build up the walls and the marble height
Holding the flame in the dead of night
Now there are gears and a steam machine
Painting the valley a neon green
Copper and coal in a rushing stream
Turning the world to a metal dream
Ink stains the skin of a king in gold
Stories of conquest and glory told
One single spark and the parchment burns
Waiting for history's heavy turns
I am the record of every war
Counting the ships by the sandy shore
From a small village to a sprawling state
Locked in the grip of a scripted fate
Golden age in a paper sea
Writing the laws of a dynasty
Build up the walls and the marble height
Holding the flame in the dead of night
Scribes in the cellar are scratching fast
Making the memory of empire last
Paper and glue and a waxen seal
Turning the fiction to something real
Golden age in a paper sea
Writing the laws of a dynasty
Build up the walls and the marble height
Holding the flame in the dead of night
Just a thin page in the wind.
Just a thin page in the wind.