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The lights come on |
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The set is down |
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The curtain's flown away |
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To all you creatures of the night |
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I say it's time we play |
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We'll show you things |
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That in your life |
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You'd never dreamed you'd know |
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So now before the ghosts arrive |
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It's welcome to the show |
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Minstrels, kings, explorers |
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Fantasies on order |
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Ghosts and dreams awakened |
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Stories long forsaken |
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The minstrel and the sorcerer |
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Are switching their disguise |
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The jester drinks and starts to think |
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That he alone is wise |
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The governor and journalist |
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Exchange a judas kiss |
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And now before the song is done |
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The plot begins to twist |
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Ghosts and lost explorers |
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Fate with all her daughters |
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Saints and hopeless sinners |
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Wise men in their winters |
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Know |
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Welcome to the show |
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Welcome to the show |
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Welcome to the show |
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Welcome to the show |
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His life was nearly over |
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As he stood upon the beach |
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Thinking about death and the ocean |
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While still safely out of reach |
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And he held there in his hand |
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A well worn hourglass |
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And though the sand was still inside |
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Soon this too would pass |
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Then he knelt to touch the water |
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Where the waves would gently fall |
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Thinking here I touch the ocean |
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And the ocean touches all |
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For from a line of countless sailors |
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He was the last man of his kind |
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And the world had changed around him |
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He had no mountains left to climb |
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And his last name was Magellan |
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A descendant of the same |
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Or so he said in late night bars |
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Though few believed his claim |
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And so he now talked with the ocean |
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As he had often done before |
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But now the waves spoke back to him |
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As he walked along the shore |
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For eighty years plus seven |
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He had been upon this earth |
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And all of them but eight |
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He'd spent on that ocean since his birth |
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But he was not the only one |
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Who walked along this coast |
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There was a lady old and pale |
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To some nearly a ghost |
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She had once been a great beauty |
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It was rumored in some bars |
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When she'd left here many years before |
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To become a movie star |
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But every wish is not to be |
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Ahh this in time she learned |
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And when her final chance had passed |
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Back here she had returned |
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And everyday at six o'clock |
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She came to a small cafe |
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And had herself a glass of wine |
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And then she'd walk away |
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To others she was gray and old |
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Not the beauty she'd been before |
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But it did not matter what she was |
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What mattered was what he saw |
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And so for near three years now |
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He'd watch her everyday |
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And though they always were so close |
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He felt so far away |
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For he could never quite arrange |
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The words inside his mind |
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That he could say to make her stay |
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And he was running out of time |
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He could not find the words to say |
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To such a work of dreams |
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And so he watched her walk away |
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And always stayed unseen |
