Queen on an old dime
Imprint of past time 
Empty emotions 
Acts of a fake mime 

When singing was living 
And dancing was playing
I’ve been all the art forms 
But now I’m all nothing 

I’m asked my profession
But not my real passion
I draw in the sand now 
To cry my confession 

Is denial a big crime 
The church bells they will chime 
For innocent souls 
Will they also ring for mine