It is the dead of the night Oh the dead of the night I live on a dream, it came to me When I was young I brought it here, and now for years The streets of London keep it safe and warm Every morning it dies and it is reborn In the dead of the night
I keep a pencil and a book I say this is how a life can look Russian roulette, French-kissed cigarette And the silence like an anvil The things that you learn, but now all That burns Is a candle And the fog melts over the night, and It softens the edges I begin to write in the dead of the night
A bead of sweat runs down my arm And I drink it from my skin It is the most real thing that I feel It is communion Bless the meek Heal the sick Protect the weak In the dead of the nightTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
