Hope reigns in a drowning song tonight,
gives way to the possibility that no childhood thoughts were true.
No bodily pain so cold as the knowledge of ones own faults.
Seeing you is a mirror to myself.
The night is black and the TV's blue.
Torment the hand that writes these words.
Will tomorrow a new voice be heard?
Maybe this existence is a dream.
Or maybe this dream is existence.
How could this be?
The night and the stars speak for themselves.
The light at the end of the tunnel is strong. I can see your face as it guides the way.
Reach out the hand that holds me near.
When you speak, its truth I hear.
When the music fades and the romance decays and the buildings have fallen down,
you'll find me... and the hope you seek cannot be found, you'll find me.
gives way to the possibility that no childhood thoughts were true.
No bodily pain so cold as the knowledge of ones own faults.
Seeing you is a mirror to myself.
The night is black and the TV's blue.
Torment the hand that writes these words.
Will tomorrow a new voice be heard?
Maybe this existence is a dream.
Or maybe this dream is existence.
How could this be?
The night and the stars speak for themselves.
The light at the end of the tunnel is strong. I can see your face as it guides the way.
Reach out the hand that holds me near.
When you speak, its truth I hear.
When the music fades and the romance decays and the buildings have fallen down,
you'll find me... and the hope you seek cannot be found, you'll find me.