Drawn by a sad melody I enter this old theatre I walk through corridors But for the music all is still I reckon i’m late for the show Strange to say there is no crowd But enchanted by the sound I start to walk down one of two aisles
But as I reach the stage I find the orchestra motionless Like frozen in their play All covered up in cobwebs Indicated the time that passed
All in their evening attire Beautiful Like an old monochrome photograph
Bow lie still on violin’s strings The sound comes no longer From their instruments It’s but an echo between these walls And has so been for years Yet ever so strong
Their eyes focus in the direction When the conductor once was stood He’d rule them from the podium And they’d anxiously obey Any gesture he would make
No one could in their wildest dreams Imagine that he while he’d conduct Would cast a spell and turn them into Stone, statuesque, proud but sad The conductor’s departed but left his dirge To accomany their destiny I panic that I realise The podium was nobody else’s place But mine
Paralysed by insight I’m viewing my own life All my hopes and dreams All that could have been Turned to stone As I stepped down from my throne