No mystery to eclipse the sun Until the sculpture had begun To etch and mold the dream Which soon became a passing dame A song for god singing A face of yesterday.
Build a lady's base of sand And stretched his willing gentle hand To seek for help to shape The life he had depended on Which fell like rain and snow A face of yesterday.
Man and music, low dusk gone Four simple instruments or more When they play together Then they found his harmony A cluttered symphony A face of yesterday.
