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 Night
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