| Twilight settles on the fields | |
| I hear the birds and bells in the same song | |
| What comforts me will be gone within the hour | |
| and I'll be waiting by the lamp-pole | |
| Is it bliss or misery if what you see is what you believe? | |
| Thank the loss of innocence, for things are starting to make sense. | |
| If you find them so unkind, I'll kind my thoughts confined to my own mind | |
| But don't you trigger me... You know you've lost my heart to the paradise night | |
| A message sent to bury dreams | |
| No need to tell you what it means | |
| and it will stir the hornets deep inside. | |
| It's a shame, not a crime | |
| Put the lid on our new time | |
| Leave the room | |
| Things look grim | |
| Amputee... I'm your phantom-limb | |
| The evening primrose blooms... | |
| We used to use its roots for our blue wine | |
| A scented sentiment saturates the night | |
| It's almost nine... | |
| And I strike a match to set the words alight | |
| Such ill news in a cruel disguise | |
| Yes, it's time for me to go | |
| You can close the shutters now... | |
| and go to sleep in 'our' bed | |
| Tomorrow I'll be home | |
| Is it bliss or misery if what you see is what you believe? | |
| Thank the loss of innocence, for things are starting to make sense. | |
| If you find them so unkind, I'll kind my thoughts confined to my own mind | |
| But don't you trigger me... You know you've lost my heart to the paradise night |
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