Wear sadness on your shoulders like a wornout overcoat
In pockets creased and tattered hang the rags of your hope.
The daybreak is your midnight; the colours have all died.
Disturbing the waters of our lives, of our lives, of our lives, lives,
lives, lives...
Of our lives.
In pockets creased and tattered hang the rags of your hope.
The daybreak is your midnight; the colours have all died.
Disturbing the waters of our lives, of our lives, of our lives, lives,
lives, lives...
Of our lives.