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...