00:03
Hello, darkness, my old friend.
Then come to talk with you again.
Because a vision softly creeping,
That this is what I was sleeping.
Vision, that was plenty.
The streets I walk along,
The streets of cobblestone,
Is the herald of a street lamp.
I turn my color to the cold and damp,
Make it lighter, so maybe more.
Talking with a cancer grow.