A memory tarnished by a hopeless falsetto
A fantasy lost in the folds of the reprise
Will you sing to me before the overture's completed,
Or will you let leisure free to your own symphony?
The song is lamenting,
The instruments out of tune
As they rise to a crescendo,
Belting out impossibility
A memory vanquished by the lines pulled asunder
A dream destroyed in the song's discovery
Will you sing to me before the final hour,
Or will you let all hope reside in the lost harmony?
The song is dissenting,
The instruments out of time.
As they fall to a close,
Humming insincerity
A memory tarnished by hardened compositions
Hopeless and forgotten by music's insanity.
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