Turn Of The Century by Renaissance
Realising a form out of stone
Set hands moving
Roan shaped his heart
Thru his working hands
Work to mould his passion into clay
Like the sun
In his room, his lady
She would dance and sing so completely
So be still, he now cries
I have time, oh let clay transform thee so, love
In the deep cold of night
Winter calls, he cries, don't deny me
For his lady, deep her illness
Time has caught her
And will for all reasons take her
In the still light of dawn, she dies
Helpless hands soul revealing
Like leaves we touch, we learn
We once knew the story
As winter calls he will starve
All but to see the stone be life
Now Roan no more tears
Set to work his strength
So transformed him
Realising a form out of stone, his work
So absorbed him
Could she hear him
Could she see him
All aglow was his room bathed in this light
He would touch her
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