Of My Darkest Hour
My life, my days, they all just seem to pass away
My dreams, my thoughts
They all just seemed to come to nought
I find each day has its own little story
Each waking hour its own little glory
The pages say that my soul has been borrowed
The night time calls to my aching,
Tomorrow never comes
My life, my days, they all just seem to pass away
My dreams, my thoughts
They all just seemed to come to nought
My life, my days, they all just seem to pass away
My thoughts, my dreams,
All are seldom what they seem
Given time all the pain seems to melt away
Even time cannot heal that which
Promised to stay for evermore
Given time even pain I can hold in sway
I will wait with it hidden then loosed on the final day
At times I've hated the lives of the living
Wished all could see their salacious forgiving
The pages say that my soul has been borrowed
Can't spend my life
Making sure that tomorrow never comes
My life, my days
My dreams, my thoughts
At times I've hated the lives of the living
We recommend: Kiss Me, Son of God (alternate version)
C'est comme l'homme de la rue
L'ordinaire, le témoin, le passant
Caché
En salle des pas perdus
Il ne perd ni son train ni son temps
Sur les plateaux de tournage d'une vie
Y'a des rôles qui ne sont pas écrits
Que serait la terre sans les petits
Caché
Et pourtant heureux
Ni trop fier, ni trop rien
Et pourtant
Caché
Et silencieux
Il jouerait plus souvent du parlant
Laissons donc parfois parler l'homme gris
Même s'il n'emploie pas des mots choisis
Que serait la terre sans