Seven the number of Christian folk,
And thus a blessed year...

It's 1956 and it's dark outside, mist draping over...
You scatter the streets of a once known town...

Early pain I thank You for
It made me the survivor I am today...

Judge me for my lack of sentiment,
But see my believe in One...

Against my skin plash the wetness below
Waters which are made up of tears...

What is this gaze in your eyes?
Something utterly strange and unfamiliar...

A toast to you
The drinker of a glass of me...

Sometimes when I wake
@ night and sit alone...

Waking up, it's just past three
There is a monster in my bed...

You might as well have saved a life
Your belief in me shatter proof...

Inside this torn book lies a story never...
of two people who shared a love so rare that all...

Do you know what were lost when you showed me...
That the fire of love is put out by rain...