This is the story of a peasant
born to the famous town plumber
(If thy desire ponders over a happy ending
i fear your longing be smeared dark)

At an early age i left my father's path
to find fantasies and mysteries
that surpass the answers in books of knowledge
i learned the art of magic.
from the russians, the orients and the arabs
mysteries way beyond the imagination, i could solve
yet the only mystery i couldn't solve
was why my heart couldn't let her go.

night after night, theatres were packed out
that i might pull the hare out the hat
Or maybe draw the love from her heart

Soon I became known amongst the nobles
thus the Great Book confirms, " ...he shall sit with princes"
nothing else satisfied me
but putting the magic in her face

Days passed
and night came
years blew
and I overhear my damsel call them illusions
illusions? illusions? what i fed from! what she basked in
illusions? that which gave others hope?
was my life an illusion?
but i loved. I loved her in a thousand ways

Morn came and the doors left ajar
My show stolen, my canary gone
the face i gloried in every morning
the eyes i adored, the lips i oft kissed
disappeared before me
the All Known.

Dear audience, I lay here cold
and broken
the crow mocks
and the owl watches

Dear audience, this night is cold
colder than my very soul
colder than my very soul
colder than my very soul

this night is cold
colder than my very soul
(echo)

icy cold