The first was wise The last was not. The third loved saints The second loved wroth. The fifth died far too young The fourth was called usurper. Who could I be, I wonder?

There was almost ten years between the release of the album with my name by Pink Floyd and my fall in Berlin

I keep your history or become a room. Hidden in the roof, I am the last floor of some homes.

In ancient depths, I silently roam, armored with scales as my timeless throne. By caviar's fame, I am known, a prehistoric swimmer in a river's flowing home.

I am the second of three, for a famous composer, one of Austrian ancestry. Many people think I went deaf, but that is not true, instead I died, dueling compositions with the court composer. I died very young, but still I live on, in my music I lovingly wrote.