Pianist of the wind

They say he's a musician,
I say he's a magician,
can't you see his fingers play the air?
can't you hear the music they play?
it's the symphony of despair,
the sound of your heart slipping away,
moving to his fingers pace.
His hands softly caress the wind,
a song is born from harmony,
with just a touch the sky sings
a heartbroken allegory
of pure hearts tainted with sins,
a faint kiss
to wake our hidden crimes.

As I watch his fingers play the air,
as I listen to the music of despair
I realize I'm nothing but the wind he plays,
and off with my sins he makes me sway
as he plays in the wind
my life's memories
and vows to the end.