glow in shining faces and now they've come to take me come to break me and yet it isn't unexpected I have been waiting for these visitors help me Now
have been waiting for these visitors) They must know by now I'm in here trembling In a terror evergrowing Crackin' up (I have been waiting for these visitors
: Here's to us one more toast and then we'll pay the bill Deep inside both of us can feel the autumn chill Birds of passage, you and me We fly instinctively
: I'm hearing images, I'm seeing songs No poet has ever painted Voices call out to me, straight to my heart So strange yet we're so well acquainted I
: He had what you might call a trivial occupation He cleaned the platforms of the local railway station With no romance in his life Sometimes he wished
: I have a very good friend The kind of girl who likes to follow a trend She has a personal style Some people like it, others tend to go wild You hear
: Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile I watch her go with a surge of that well-known
: They passed me by, all of those great romances You were, I felt, robbing me of my rightful chances My picture clear, everything seemed so easy And
: Long awaited darkness falls Casting shadows on the walls In the twilight hour I am alone Sitting near the fireplace, dying embers warm my face In this
: Do I hear what I think I'm hearing? Do I see the signs I think I see? Or is this just a fantasy? Is it true that the beast is waking Stirring in his
I have a very good friend The kind of girl who likes to follow a trend She has a personal style Some people like it, others tend to go wild You hear her
Here's to us, one more toast and then we'll pay the bill Deep inside both of us can feel the autumn chill Birds of passage, you and me, we fly instinctively
I'm hearing images, I'm seeing songs No poet has ever painted Voices call out to me, straight to my heart So strange yet we're so well acquainted I let
He had what you might call a simple occupation He cleaned the platforms of the local railway station With no romance in his life Sometimes he wished he
Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness
Do I hear what I think I'm hearin'? Do I see the signs, I think I see? Or is this just fantasy Is it true that the beast is wakin'? Stirrin' in his restless
waiting for these visitors) They must know by now I'm in here trembling In a terror ever growing Crackin' up (I have been waiting for these visitors
