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...