[ 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 whatīs left of all
The golden scenes I forever want to know

The curtains are lifted
Reveal a spectacle of rare
īTil 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...