of winter. Gathered in the house, the light dimwe talk in wispers, waiting for some good news,listenig from here.Midnight comes, the spirit pushes And we push just as hard.We
(Instrumental)
From these broken arms you know, you know, us.Counting all your tears we know, this time. And we cross this barren moor as far as the edge.We fell asleep
We drunk too muchjust to remember. Oblivion?s clear, in morning light.Could we plunge any further?Memory is lying on the ocean?s floor.We drink a lot