The hour has struck, the time has come,
And now our story has begun.
Forbidden love, and death, and life
During the age of hope and strife.
In fourteen-hundred eighty-two,
When nameless artists sang and drew,
When gypsies bold were, unafraid,
Our history was made.

The time has come for bells, cathedrals, churches,
Tall crosses, proud, reaching to the very sky,
Great scientific battles and researches,
Desire and lust, strong and prone to mystify

You are an artist, troubadour,
Creating art, so strong and pure.
A gift, a curse to animate,
The face of time to recreate.

You are forgotten by the world,
But hark! your song is always heard!
And you reveal, on every line,
The legend of your time.

The time has come for bells, cathedrals, towers,
Black fires of love for the fierce and brave of heart.
The time of war, the time of pure, raw power,
Chaos and peace, age of sword and age of art.

Pirates and poets, age of great surprises,
Mis'rable feasts, bloody carnivals of life.
The time has come for sunsets and sunrises,
Dark days and nights, love and suffering and strife.

The looming future will replace the far past,
A new wave of foes would have come and gone again.
Towers will rise, collapse, and nothing shall last,
But Love's glorious song through the ages will remain,
Through the ages will remain.