Dust in The Wind
Written By Taj



Dust in Wind - lyrics

Artist: Kansas

I close my eyes, only for a moment, and the moment's gone
All my dreams, pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind.
Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless Sea
All we do, crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see

Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind

[Now] Don't hang on, nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky
It slips away, and all your money won't another minute buy.

Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind Dust in the wind, everything is dust in the wind.

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The Dead Man stood at the foot of the ramp. He was doing the walk for the last time. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

He opened his eyes and again stared at the ramp. How many times in his career he had walked that ramp? Twenty thousand? More? The air at the stadium was at full blast, and that reminded him the very first time he walked that ramp more than a decade ago. He had to portray a creature of the underworld, someone aloof, cold, with no feelings whatsoever, with nerves of steel. His character had evolved in a decade of destruction, to be more human, still somewhat invincible, but more like the man behind the character. From the leader of "The Creatures of the Night", with long black hair, and black hat, to a biker from hell with short auburn hair, and a bandana hiding the receding hair.

He began to walk up the ramp. All the changes in his career paraded before him. When he trained in the Von Erich camp, when he used the mask, the beret, the black clothes, the biker clothes. Now he would wear clothes like common mortals do.

How to forget the different storylines? When he was invincible, and with only the mention of his name, his opponents would freeze in terror. The betrayals, the championships, the tag teams, the turns from heel to face, to face to heel, and over and over again, "The Man that Walks with the Angels", "The Ministry", the bikes, Kane.

How he wished that he could continue to do this thing that he loved so much, but this sport, this entertainment, had taken his toll. Five years ago he could have beaten so easily the rookie with an amazing body, and face of a child; so easily...

While he walked the ramp he could hear the fans. Some asking him to stay, other saying goodbye, and a lot few others saying good riddance, but the majority the respect that he deserved.

He took another breath and kept walking, he was in the middle of the ramp by now. Many times he had wondered what it would be like when he retired. Now it was that time, and was walking out for the last time. He also had wondered how the people would remember him, and his legacy. Now seeing and not seeing all those faces gave him a small measure of that, and a tiny smile formed on his lips. He was satisfied.

From now on he would be home with the woman that he loved, their child, his bikes; and once in a while appearances, autograph signings, to do once or twice color commentary at the announcers table.

At last he was at the stage, behind him the fans paying their their respects, and his legend; in front of him the Titantron, and behind the curtains a group of the guys had gathered too. Hunter, Kane, Brock, Show, even Mick and Rock were there too. Beyond all this was home, the family and friends that he had learned to cherish all those times that he was away from them.

A video paying tribute flashed before him in the gigantic screen. He shot his eyes knowing that nothing would ever be the same again. This was the very last time.

He opened them, and saw the space between him and the curtain, between the character and the man. A space that from now on would exist forever. In the long moment when the Undertaker existed in stage before the fans, for the last time he stopped and raised his hand in salute. Then he was gone.

The End

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