After the final song is over,
the last sound has faded as well,
lonesome objects on an abandoned stage,
overturned chairs and relentless gloom.
Sheets of paper. A feathered poster
under our feet.
Who's gonna tell us, whats left
of our songs?
Stay with me.
Help me.
Take me home,
take my hand.
Love me very much.
I am tired,
and my heart is heavy.
Console me,
even if you don't believe,
that tomorrow will be nicer,
tell me it can be,
tell me it can be,
even if you don't know,
that I believe you.
After the final song is over,
and the magic has faded away,
what's gonna happen to you?
The noisy crowd leaves you alone.
You are hurt, and you don't even know either,
where your place is.
Stay with me.
Help me.
Take me home,
take my hand.
Love me very much.
I am tired,
and my heart is heavy.
Console me,
even if you don't believe,
that tomorrow will be nicer,
tell me that it can be.
That it always can be.
Even if you don't know,
Even if you don't mean it.