Now the final curtain's fallen,
for no show goes on forever,
if the world's a stage - mine's empty.
whilst upon it you'll tread never.
As the instruments lie silent in their coffins made of wood,
I rest assured they'd say these words - If say these words they could;
Whatever happened to the songs - the music that we made,
and the joy we shared together as on me your fingers played?
Are chose symphonies forgotten - with our cases closed and latched'?
Dreams now dusty, old and rotten - empty shells (no strings attached).
Amidst the dying candle-light,
I sit forlorn, alone,
a space once filled with laughter bright,
the place my heart called home
Now the puppets are my company - but wood and straw can't speak;
though it by chance they came to life I'm certain they would weep;
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