When I was young I hoped to build
A life of sunny days
When I was young I strove to master
All of time and all of space
But my time has whittled down
Space made a plaything of me
Now storm clouds gather o'er the ruins
Of my destiny
An illusion
Can come to mean everything
The wave of a hand
Becomes the star of the king
But in the desolate wastes
When all the water is spent
No rain comes from the clouds
That the sandstorms will send
The smoke has cleared
Wind blows between the shattered mirrors
What stood here was a
Parlor of tricks
I followed their way
And it led me astray
As a ferryman
'cross the Styx
On the other bank
My home and my kin
On this desolate shore
Only pain
I will find those I left
While cloistered within
And my years
Will have not been in vain