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Sunken are the eyes of my creation
into a glass containing smelly puss
Whatever sense of gratitude I may have felt
It went away too soon

He was your son, I was your daughter
and the dream would last a million years
Embraced by the song of a million weeping strings
and all forgotten things

The wheel was my father`s
and mine was the stick

If you ask who made the castle crumble
and who is left to blame
I guess my answer to your question
will most surely be

He played his strings through me
revealed my symphony

The wheel was my father`s
and mine was the stick

Sunken are the eyes of my creation
into a glass containing smelly puss
Whatever sense of gratitude I may have felt
It went away too soon

He was your son, I was your daughter
and the dream would last a million years
Embraced by the song of a million weeping strings
and all forgotten things

The wheel was my father`s
and mine was the stick

If you ask who made the castle crumble
and who is left to blame
I guess my answer to your question
will most surely be

He played his strings through me
revealed my symphony

The wheel was my father`s
and mine was the stick

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