Sarah Close Maestro
He's a hollow man, in a dead land
He's a fool with men for change
He's a hot shot, in his high rise
A glass of wine and a lady by his side
The city is drunk on the money he's burnt
Yet he still prays these whispered words
Of 'Things are good cause I'm not dead yet'
Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh
Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh
He's a warrior, and a fighter
He's a fool with a twisted smile
In his blood stream, runs the story
Of a maestro cut loose in the hands of misuse
The city is drunk on the money he's burnt
Yet he still prays these whispered words
Of 'Things are good cause I'm not dead yet'
Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh
Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh
Look at you Maestro
All alone and growing old
Look at your poor soul
All alone in your city of gold
All our finery, left in pieces on the floor
What a sight to see he waved away my words
All our finery, left in pieces on the floor
What a sight to see, what a sight to see
All our finery, left in pieces on the floor
What a sight to see he waved away my words
In search of something more
What a sight to see
He waved away my words
In search of something more
Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh
Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh
Look at you Maestro
All alone and growing old
Look at your poor soul
All alone in your city of gold
Look at you Maestro
Look at your poor soul
