Idioma Origen:
deep inside the darkest night
is drinking in the light
from pinholes pricked, holy needle knicked
in a canopy of white
i´m alone, i´m alone
and i´m beating my soul
to make it bleed a drop of hope
then i´ll drink it up in a golden cup
and let it grow inside
and i fear that you´ve gone away
but you must be somewhere near
the fire fades so the deepest shades
slowly trickle down the wall
in a room i hide will i come outside
and have some kind of fall
all my words, all my words
they have lost all their worth
nothing´s good enough for anyone
and the look on my face
leaves a subtle trace of the change
that is to come
Idioma Destino:
deep inside the darkest night
is drinking in the light
from pinholes pricked, holy needle knicked
in a canopy of white
i´m alone, i´m alone
and i´m beating my soul
to make it bleed a drop of hope
then i´ll drink it up in a golden cup
and let it grow inside
and i fear that you´ve gone away
but you must be somewhere near
the fire fades so the deepest shades
slowly trickle down the wall
in a room i hide will i come outside
and have some kind of fall
all my words, all my words
they have lost all their worth
nothing´s good enough for anyone
and the look on my face
leaves a subtle trace of the change
that is to come