[NARRATION]
|
|
Another year has come and past
|
Like moments through an hourglass
|
And at the end of this year's trail
|
An offering, a final tale
|
|
Of love, long lost
|
And then refound
|
And the child by which
|
Those dreams were bound
|
|
Of a dusty hotel
|
That was long past old
|
And the shadows and the memories
|
Its hallways still hold
|
|
For things that are old
|
Have the best tales to tell
|
And usually,
|
They tell them well
|
|
And so it's here, my dear children
|
That our story truly starts
|
When the lord sent once more to the earth
|
An angel, with a childlike heart
|
|
And on this night his mission was
|
To find somewhere on this earth
|
That human that best reflected his son
|
And carried on his work
|
|
And since this mission from his lord
|
Had to be completed on this one night
|
The angel quickly unfolded his wings
|
And towards the earth took flight
|
|
And this night, in case you have not guessed
|
Was once more christmas eve
|
When snow and light and angels' flights
|
All together weave
|
|
But of the angel's instructions
|
There was one thing more
|
That would make this journey to the earth
|
Harder than all the ones before
|
|
For the lord had also told the angel
|
That he could only use his wings twice this christmas eve
|
Once when he descended to the earth
|
And once more when he would leave
|
(not unlike ourselves some think,
|
Or at least so i believe)
|
|
Now this put quite a complication
|
In what the angel planned
|
For now he had to choose most carefully
|
Exactly where he would land
|
|
He needed to find a single place
|
That would represent all mankind
|
But humans were such a varied lot
|
Such a place would surely be hard to find
|
|
A single place where there would be
|
Humans of every race and creed
|
The rich and poor, the thrilled and bored
|
The failures with those who succeed
|
|
But after a few moments
|
Carefully placed in thought
|
The answer appeared in the angel's mind
|
The city called new york
|
|
And as he neared that city
|
Where all those souls did dwell
|
He felt himself being drawn towards
|
An old, rundown hotel
|
|
For in a city that usually had
|
Guards at nearly every single door
|
This one just had a sign that said "vacancies,
|
There is always room for one more"
|
|
Now why the angel decided to stop there
|
He could not quite say the reason
|
But he thought the sign upon that hotel
|
Somehow fit the sentiment of this season
|
|
Now even after all these years
|
The building was still a work of art
|
And though some facade had crumbled here and there
|
Most still had their parts
|
|
The walls were made of granite
|
Not aluminum or steel
|
And every pillar and ballistrade
|
Still had its artist's feel
|
|
Every gutter had a gargoyle
|
Every gargoyle had its wings
|
For angels can appreciate
|
Other flying things
|
|
So he landed on a cathedral roof
|
Across the street from that hotel
|
And looked down upon the world below
|
Where all those souls did dwell
|
|
And sitting on that rooftop
|
With his friend the winter wind
|
He gazed carefully at that scene below
|
As he slowly took it in
|
|
[THE LOST CHRISTMAS EVE]
|
|
On a street in the night
|
In the cold winter's light
|
A child stands alone and she's waiting
|
|
And the light that's out there
|
It just hangs in the air
|
As if it was just hesitating
|
|
And the snow it comes down
|
And it muffles the sound
|
Of dreams on their way to tomorrow
|
|
And when they appear
|
This night will hold them near
|
For where they will lead
|
She will follow
|
|
For here in this city of lights
|
This evening awakens
|
The dreams that it might
|
The winter it conjures
|
The spells it will weave
|
The snow gently covers the ground
|
Christmas eve
|
|
In this scene
|
On this night
|
There's an ancient hotel
|
Where shadows they do tend to wander
|
|
And the ghosts that live here
|
Hold each moment so dear
|
For time's not a thing one should squander
|
|
And they recount their sand
|
As it runs through their hand
|
And examine each moment for meaning
|
|
It can be wished upon
|
Till the moment it's gone
|
Like day dis |