[words & music: Barthold]
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