[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...