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When the light is low
I can feel it grow
Like a reaching hand
When the fevers rise
And the noise has died
From the preaching man

When the skies forlorn
And the fate had won
It still keeps me out
Reaching all I have


When the light is low
I can feel it grow
Like a reaching hand
When the fevers rise
And the noise has died
From the preaching man

All the ghosts conjured
Take away the hurt
It makes the reaching hand

Hope is the hardest to kill
Hope is the hardest to kill
It won't die
It won't die until

Reconciliate
To face the blade
That cuts you from
From the reaching hand

In the slightest glow
I can feel it grow
Like a reaching hand
When the fevers rise
And the voices cry
For the preaching man
There's a ray of light
Gazing through my eyes
Like a reaching hand

Hope is the hardest to kill
Hope is the hardest to kill
It is kind
And I'm one eye blind

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