Forget your problems Lay it down and start up In a sense of what you are Is what I want I've ran my colors Dripped down and drained out Tried a millions
Sometimes life it takes you by the hand. It puts you down before you know it It's gone and you're dead again. I've been in places and I won't pretend
Walk a little walk, smile, talk big thoughts Gonna tell them all just what I want That street, two streets, I see you and me Hanging on the empty swings
Fire digests my heart Cause we're not here anymore Last night you went away Last night... I'll only remember The moments I've spent with you They'll stay
Bring a torch, Jeanette, Isabelle Bring a torch, come swiftly and run Christ is born, tell the folk of the village Jesus is sleeping in his cradle Ah
Children who watch their fathers rise to work each day Becoming bitter as they piss their lives away Out of balance as he stumbles to the porch Too
Bring a Torch Bring a torch, Jeanette, Isabella Bring a torch, come swiftly and run Christ is born, tell the folk of the village Jesus is sleeping in
Misguided satellite I circle by habit Can't find my orbit to save my life I want to fall, I want to burn Like an ignorant crater less meteorite Long
On clearer days I can see the lights From my bedroom door On windy nights I can smell the lake As it drifts to me from the shore The traffic lights silently
Bring a torch, Jeanette, Isabella Bring a torch, come swiftly and run Christ is born, tell the folks of the village Jesus is sleeping in His cradle Ah
on clearer days I can see the lights from my bedroom door, on windy nights I can smell the lake as it drifts to me from the shore the traffic lights
(French carol, ca. 1553) Bring a torch, Jeanette, Isabella Bring a torch, come swiftly and run Christ is born, Tell the folk of the village Jesus is
fortune - point it out with flashlights underneath the tree limb, hoping that the bough breaks all night - set your heart on all night, the dark no longer
(Instrumental)
Bring a torch, Jeanette, Isabella Bring a torch, come swiftly and run Christ is born, tell the folk of the village Jesus is sleeping in His cradle Ah,
Stakes and torches, Scimitars and bayonets, Scythes, pitchforks, A sickle with a sharpened edge. Swords and spades, And mallets that are made of lead.
Misguided satellite I circle by habit, can?t find my orbit to save my life I want to fall, I want to burn, like an ignorant craterless meteorite