[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...