We followed the strange map of his memory Back through the landmarks of a life Though sometimes painful he’d remember A world of splendor and wonders to behold As he told his story
He was lost in the land of the angels And the red temples in the trees In the tempest of time was A treasure abandoned
He spoke of those days of hope and destiny Of dreams and the often-answered prayers But of an age now gone forever And though he’d never find that place again He relives the glory
Of the garden of gods he would tell us As we hung on every word Of the choices he made and A treasure abandoned
Captured by the hands of the master Colors on the canvas of time Painting over days ever faster We witnessed the world through his ageless eyes.
