| Your wild life
|
| Returns and returns to the fore
|
| And the hands that reached out in the night
|
| You can feel them once more
|
| And all your wild days
|
| Are returning, returning again
|
| And the hands that reached out in the night
|
| You can feel them once more
|
| You can’t pretend
|
| You don’t want to pretend anymore
|
| And all through the hours
|
| You cling to the powers of love
|
| And thought and hope
|
| In the meaning that’s lost in the reason of now
|
| Come on
|
| We will be better than before
|
| So come on
|
| We will be better that before
|
| My wild life
|
| Returns and returns to the sea
|
| And the hands that reach out in the night
|
| They are reaching for me
|
| And all my wild days
|
| Have returned and returned to the fore
|
| And the hands that reach out in the night
|
| I can feel them once more
|
| I can’t pretend
|
| I don’t want to pretend anymore
|
| And all through the hours we lean to the power of love
|
| And thought and hope
|
| In the meaning that’s lost in the reason of now
|
| Come on
|
| We will be better than before
|
| All through the hours we lean to the powers of love
|
| And thought and hope
|
| In the reason that’s lost in the reason of now
|
| Come on
|
| We will be better than before
|
| So come on
|
| We can be better than before
|
| We can be better than before |