Melodic stanzas Are symphonizing their way
Through your weary head
To feed your distrust And fill it's mouth with the desire
To soulfully be one with your creation
Not a subject to control You call upon a higher power
For help and inspiration
The crowd waits And turns their faces Towards you expectantly
You give them what they need But their useless criticism
Makes you die A bit more inside
Not a subject to control You call upon a higher power
For help and inspiration
Oh, I swoon While loudspeakers play soft music
Leaning Over your fortieth masterpiece You must have loved
The colour of these violins
I wish I knew you Your fit of insanity makes me sad
I wish you knew Your music was to stay forever And I hope
I have no clue If you know how much it matters And I hope