The event of our lifetimenIs almost underway.nThe children laugh and sing;nLet them play.nThe eyes of innocence look onnAnd make another wish,nFor wishes can come truenWhen they are pure.nnA candle burns; wax trickles downnTo rest on weathered woodnBetween two chairs, set facingnThrough the glow.nThe winter wind comes wandering innTo freeze the silent pose;nNo matter how it tries,nThe candle glows.nnNo matter how it tries,nThe candle glows.nNo matter how it tries...nnnIn one chair sits SylvianWith sullen eyes and a weak chin,nNext to Father TimenWith his shoulders back and grim.nThey've been sitting there with steady glaresnUnblinking and unchanged,nContemplating somethingnDark and lonely.nnThey've been sitting there for hours, days,nAnd weeks and months and years,nWaiting for their moment to arrive.nThe anthem plays its melodynThat's in and out of time,nGoin, 'la la la la da da da da da'nnnThe light that never flickersnOnly has one point of view.nSurrounding darkness makes itselfnAt home.nThe girl was of fine colornAnd was shaped of solid gold.nThe man was pallidnWhite and set in stone.nnThe rose with frozennPetals never withers in the sun.nThe mind that never learnsnNever forgets.nThe winter wind comes wandering innTo freeze the heart and skin;nNo matter how it tries,nThe candle glows.nnnTwikling lights and merry mennAre dancing in the streetnAs shining figures bustlenTo and fro.nThe snow is softly fallingnLike a blanket in the cold.nWith flakes that warmnThe hearts of those who let themnnThere is one place along the waynThat's dimly lit and grey,nBut no one seems to noticenIn their joy.nThe winter wind comes wandering innTo hear its own self blow;nNo matter how it tries,nThe candle glowsnnNo matter how it tries,nThe candle glows.nNo matter how it tries,nThe candle glows.nnnIn one chair sits SylvianWith sullen eyes and a weak chin,nNext to Father Time,nWith her shoulders black and grim.nTheir somber stares all-steady glaresnUnblinking and unchanged,nContemplating somethingnDark and lonely.nnThey've been sitting there for hours, days,nAnd weeks and months and years,nWaiting for their moment to arrive.nFinally a slow grin playednAcross her daring face,nAnd the old bag grew a look of sudden horrornnnWith that the old man died,nSmashed his wrinkled, balding head.nAnd the girl got up and left the roomnAnd went out into the winter wind, and...