When I was young, my friend,                           
All the songs were mine.
I'd sing them night and day
And there was magic in each line.
But now my days are sad,
And the nights are long.
Who stole the magic from my song?

In those lost years, my friend,
I would dream along.
I'd sing each song I knew
And there was magic in my song.
But now the days is sad,
 And the night so long.
 Who stole the magic from my song?

Those days are past and gone.
I've lost them one by one.
Now when I sing my song,
Tell me, where's the magic gone?

But I will sing my song while  the tear drops burn.
Perhaps someday the magic will return.
Yes, I will sing my song.  Let the tear drops burn.
Someday the magic of my music will return.