Today, My love walks alone,
Through an empty street, of broken bottles,
And shattered dreams.
What might come of him, if he doesn’t leave?
Would he rot away on that empty street?
His memory could fade, along with me,
But could he still, remember me,
If I lost, all my dreams?

When the clock strikes twelve,
The day is done.

Let him think, he’s all alone.

He counts the days, beneath the stars,
And wonders why, he’d been so wrong.
He starts to whisper, words unclear,
He kneels to pray, and murmurs in fear.
The life he has, he never lived,
So he said sorry, and tried again.
He created dreams, all of them new,
He smiled so happy, his world became true.
When the clock strikes twelve,
The wonders of tomorrow are now alive.

Let him think he’s all alone.

He knows his mistakes,
And all he didn’t do.
He had all he wanted, but all disappeared.
It was him, who wanted
The bad, but never thought,
The good would leave, and not come back.

When the clock strikes twelve,
The world won’t end, but it begins.

The dreams came alive, so unreal.
The bad life is gone, and now on track.
He’s happy now, he got his life back.