In the tragic play
A marionette of the clock

Pages filled with a chronicle in blood

Scents and sights,come back to me

My life in memories, makes me want to go
Try and hold on to what's left of all
The golden scenes I forever want to know


The curtains are lifted
Reveal a spectacle of rare

'Til the final act I am your tragic one

Soaring in the wind

Sounds - so transcendent
So faint and softly
Carries me above


Scents and sights...