My hands used to create magic. I think with the increasing demands of adulthood, they've had their spark pulled right out of them. My little sister's hands still glisten with it, but I fear he ... [+]
Imprisoned behind walls of stone
Naked before the curtain
Spirits no more known
He could never be less certain
Alone in a room to atone
Prosecuted by a mechanical voice from the past
Cackles the drum of the electronic string
Who knows how long he will last
Shivering, as metal pipes sing
It will come, but how fast?
The captive is drowned
And torched from above
Faded goes the sound
There will be no love
For he will rest away from the ground
Naked before the curtain
Spirits no more known
He could never be less certain
Alone in a room to atone
Prosecuted by a mechanical voice from the past
Cackles the drum of the electronic string
Who knows how long he will last
Shivering, as metal pipes sing
It will come, but how fast?
The captive is drowned
And torched from above
Faded goes the sound
There will be no love
For he will rest away from the ground