Five thirty-seven,
And I'm back here again,
I can't remember how it feels to feel something.
Wait for the deadlights,
And put the cold back on,
Surrender to silence when the silver's gone.
Every night it's down to this,
The Zenith of hope to Angel's last kiss.
Every night it's down to this,
Just giving up and giving into emptiness.
If only I could still be someone you believed in.
At five past Eleven,
It all fell into place:
Viva deception and the final throes of grace.
I'm sick for the starlight,
So let's hit the floor,
Surrender to silver before the silence falls.
Every night it's down to this,
The Zenith of hope to Angel's last kiss.
Every night I can't resist,
Just giving up and giving into emptiness…
Is there nothing left?
If only I could be someone you believed…