Drawn by a sad melody   I enter this old theater   I walk through corridors   But for the music all is still   I reckon I'm late for the show   Strange to say there is no crowd   But enchanted by the sound   I start to walk down one of two aisles      But as I reach the stage   I find the orchestra motionless   Like frozen in their play   All covered up in cobwebs   Indicating the time that passed      All in their evening attire   Beautiful   Like an old monochrome photograph      Bows lie still on violins' strings   The sound comes no longer   From their instruments   It's but an echo between these walls   And has so been for years   Yet ever so strong      Their eyes focus in the direction   Where the conductor once was stood   He'd rule them from the podium   And they'd anxiously obey   Any gesture he would make      No one could in their wildest dreams   Imagine that he while he'd conduct   Would cast a spell and turn them into   Stone, statuesque, proud but sad   The conductor departed but left this dirge   To accompany their destiny   I panic as I realize   The podium was nobody else's place   But mine      Paralyzed by insight   I'm viewing my own life   All my hopes and dreams   All that could have been   Turned to stone   As I stepped down from my throne