Maestro - Sarah Close

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