When I was a girl at my daddy's side, pappa the royal mortician, revealed to me in secret signs the mark of the magician. And daddy no dummy, did outrageous things with a mummy. And often the stiffs that he would drive would look better dead than they did alive. I studied well I learnt the trade, I thought my looks would never fade. If I could find that recipe to give eternal youth to me. It was always my ambition to use papa's tuition and gain some small remission from the vagaries of time. Every little ray of sunshine robbed me of my youth. Who to blame? Who the one? Who to curse? You know the only one to blame would by my enemy the sun!