| Faded by the hands of time
|
| Faint echoes of my childhood dream
|
| The images of days gone by Are seldom what they seem
|
| The candlelight spells out my name
|
| The breeze from below leads the dance of the flame
|
| Suddenly no one recalls
|
| Yesterday’s men have vacated the halls
|
| And they all stay away from the home of their youth
|
| And they all say they pray but pretend with the truth
|
| I know I once was like them, old in word and deed
|
| But my youth survived and revived
|
| The ravages of need
|
| Never has an open door
|
| Presented me itself to claim
|
| Even though the walls persist
|
| In singing out my name
|
| Even the walls know my name
|
| The candlelight flickers the dance of the flame
|
| Suddenly no one recalls
|
| All of my deeds are adorning the halls
|
| And the way that I’ve lived
|
| Makes the world that I’ve known
|
| And I know what I give I must give on my own
|
| For it seems each room holds the key
|
| To open other doors
|
| As I make my way through the house
|
| I’m finding more and more
|
| Folded years before this day
|
| The dust has found its chance to fall
|
| The note from one of loving thoughts
|
| Was never read at all
|
| Even the walls know my name
|
| The candlelight flickers the dance of the flame
|
| Suddenly no one recalls what they said
|
| Yesteryear’s heroes are waking up dead
|
| And I owe my whole life to the name on the page
|
| And I look to my wife in the midst of my age
|
| We both have lived with the thought
|
| Of travelling afar
|
| For this house is old and our home
|
| Will find us where we are |