It's getting late. It all just wannes and pales and fades away, if we want it too much. And what a shame if all there is, is all thas gone away. There's nothing left here for us.
Deadlight holiday, killing time to make us stay, hollow as the promises of yesterday. On and on the music plays. Memories in paraphrase. Falling pasr my window like the morning rain.
It's all the same. So many words remaining. Always too late, it never seems worth taking. And all the days, and all the nights lost sleeping, and in the end, the secret not worth keeping.
Writer(s): Michael Rainbow, Sara Taylor
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