|
Four o'clock in the morning and still we cannot sleep |
|
Turning over, turning 'round, twisting in our sweat |
|
They say there is no rest for the wicked ones |
|
Dear God, what have we done? |
|
There is no rest for the wicked ones |
|
Dear God, what is this evil that we've done? |
|
Is it that we wanted more than you gave? |
|
Why did you put us then in this smalltown grave? |
|
Humility - is that what you want? |
|
Why did you make us then the way you did? |
|
Yes we have pride - is this our sin? |
|
Is it the times that we've been out fighting? |
|
Well I'll tell you all those times - we never really hurt anybody |
|
Or is it that we were eating |
|
While other people were starving? |
|
Is this our crime? |
|
Four o'clock in the morning and still we cannot sleep... |
|
Is it the times we laughed about it all |
|
Through all those whisky nights so far away? |