Part I: A Serenade
[Instrumental]
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Part II: Playing On
Hide in the heart in a secret place,
Spirit locked behind our public face
Lost in our forgotten years,
Imprisoned by our mental peers,
Playing on, through the Ethersphere
Playing on, nothing interferes
And in our own sweet time,
In our darkened homes,
We'll sneak a listen,
To the music that died alone
Played across such jambled staves
Stay through dictated waves
The bar lines slash like red-tape
Across the manuscript of life,
All its melodies are traped in templates,
And designer culture's knives
Playing on, through the Ethersphere
Playing on, even if no-one hears,
And in our own sweet time,
In our darkened homes,
We'll sneak a listen
To the music that died alone
Music that died alone.
We hide such high ambition
Behind the vestige of smiles,
Deny such thoughts' existence
With cheap "one liners" for a while
Feeding to the critics,
All the things that might have been,
Who turn ambition to pretention,
To outmoded and obscene
Sell our dreams to the mainstream's sway
Mould our lives, to a typecast for today.
We pay people to destroy us
In the media every day
So we'll all know our place and keep it,
And never want to move away..
Playing on, through the Ethersphere
Playing on, even if no-one hears,
And in our own sweet time,
In our darkened homes,
We'll sneak a listen
To the music that died alone.
_____________________________________________
Part III: Pre-History
[Instrumental]
_____________________________________________
Part IV: Reprise
Hide in the heart in a secret place,
Spirit locked behind our public face
Lost in our forgotten years,
Imprisoned by our mental peers,
Playing on, through the Ethersphere
Playing on, even if no-one hears,
And in our own sweet time,
In our darkened homes,
We'll sneak a listen
To the music that died alone
Music that died alone.
