It was an hour before dawn
Why are these voices not yet gone...

As i look into the past
how do i last...

How do i lose my pain
how do i lose my sorrow...

An hour be for dawn
the voices are not yet gone...

As I look into the sky
I ask myself why I cry...

As I look into the sky
I see the doves fly...

Inside I die
As I lay in bed and cry...

I was young you were old
I was eight you were old...

As i hold you close
for fear of letting go...

Good or bad
happy or sad...

As i lay dieing
my sarrow flying...

This little lady i love
far more beautiful than a dove...