| Hope lives with darkness, he sleeps in her bed
|
| And darkness fills tables with desperate friends
|
| For the harvest of heartache on which hope depends
|
| How the lost echo
|
| The light at the end is a white paper pin hole
|
| Loosely pinned to the wall
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| Down the miles of darkened hall
|
| Your seat was set before you fell
|
| And the house you get is how you tell
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| All of your voice for the song of a savior
|
| Only to find you were never in favor
|
| Michael on the outside, always looking in
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| A dog in the fight but his dog never wins
|
| If he works that much harder, his ship might come in
|
| He gives it the old heave-ho
|
| Signs up his soul and works his hands to the bone
|
| Michael outside, looking in
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| One day management notices him
|
| «You've got heart, a lot to give
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| Bring me sand, take this sieve»
|
| All of your heart for the love of a father
|
| Only to find you are farther and farther
|
| All of your voice for the song of a savior
|
| Only to find you were never in favor
|
| All of your working in vain to turn the wind
|
| Only to find your fate’s predetermined
|
| Push the wheel, push the wheel
|
| Push the wheel, push the wheel
|
| Push the wheel, push the wheel
|
| Push the wheel, push the wheel
|
| Hope lives with darkness, he sleeps in her bed
|
| And darkness fills tables with desperate friends
|
| Now you know when hope enters, you’ve entered the end
|
| At the all time low
|
| Ever so kindly softening the blow
|
| Michael outside, looking in
|
| Michael outside, looking in
|
| Michael outside, looking in
|
| Michael outside, looking in |