Clock chimes twelve,
As I walk on home,
It seems so empty,
But I don't feel alone.
I turn my head,
Back over my shoulder,
Is it just me,
Or is it getting colder?
I look at the sky,
But it's just a black blanket,
I can't see no stars,
I cling to my jacket.
The shadows bite,
My exposed back,
The streetlights are bright,
But everything's black.
This is my head,
This is my life,
I feel under my coat,
And pull out my knife.
It's inches away,
From slicing my skin,
I can feel the desperation,
Deep within.
Then I sense a warm breeze,
Upon my face,
Of course, it's you,
In our place.
A beautiful glow,
Is coming off your frame,
I sigh in relief,
But your eyes are the same.
Deep and dark,
But full of light.
You're my angel,
So black but so bright.
Yet you haven't come,
From heaven, dear boy?
You come from a place,
Without any joy.
You come from hell,
To save me athough,
You've never ever,
Really known.
I've waited for you,
Since the start,
I hate it when,
We're apart.
I stare at you,
And you offer your hand,
I take it, gladly,
Cos you understand.
You look so sad,
But please don't cry.
You can't see,
What's behind.
But you got wings,
So you can fly.
Glide with me,
Into the blanket sky.