| As the cheerless towns pass my window |
| I can see a washed out moon through the fog |
| And then a voice inside my head breaks the analogue |
| And says |
| «Follow me down to the valley below |
| You know moonlight is bleeding from out of your soul» |
| I survived against the will of my twisted folk |
| But in the deafness of my world the silence broke |
| And said |
| «Follow me down to the valley below |
| You know moonlight is bleeding from out of your soul» |
| «Follow me down to the valley below |
| You know moonlight is bleeding from out of your soul» |
| «My David, don’t you worry, this cold world is not for you |
| So rest your head upon me, I have strength to carry you» |
| Ghosts of the twenties rising |
| Golden summers just holding you |
| «Follow me down to the valley below |
| You know moonlight is bleeding from out of your soul» |
| «Follow me down to the valley below |
| You know moonlight is bleeding from out of your soul |
| Come to us, Lazarus, it’s time for you to go» |
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