[spoken-word poetry] On the terrible night, where the black wind turns, I lie with the ashes of all I have learned. The walls hold their breath, the old clock won't speak, And memory comes like a hand to the cheek. On the sleepless night, so native to me, Every dark hour grows branches of sea. I drift in the shallow, uncomfortable gray, Half lost in a dream that refuses the day. [Chorus] So keep me awake in the natural night, Where wrong and unfinished things gather their light. For what I have done and what I could not become Still walk through the darkness, still whisper me home. So keep me awake in the natural night, Where wrong and unfinished things gather their light. For what I have done and what I could not become Still walk through the darkness, still whisper me home. [spoken-word poetry] I remember the roads that I chose not to take, The promises broken, the hearts left awake. I remember my hands and the things they have done, And all I might have been beneath another sun. Between space and time, there is nowhere to stand, Only dust in the air and a map without land. I reach for the years, but they pass through my skin, Like smoke through a window, like winter coming in. [Chorus] So keep me awake in the natural night, Where wrong and unfinished things gather their light. For what I have done and what I could not become Still walk through the darkness, still whisper me home. So keep me awake in the natural night, Where wrong and unfinished things gather their light. For what I have done and what I could not become Still walk through the darkness, still whisper me home. [spoken-word poetry] And when morning arrives with its merciless blue, It will find me still counting the things I once knew. On the terrible night, on all nights the same, I remember my life, and forget my own name. [Final Chorus] So keep me awake in the natural night, Where wrong and unfinished things gather their light. For what I have done and what I could not become Still walk through the darkness, still whisper me home. So keep me awake in the natural night, Where wrong and unfinished things gather their light. For what I have done and what I could not become Still walk through the darkness, still whisper me home.
