The Hour of Twilight

British folk, j-pop, Japanese folk, Japanese, world music, folk rock

+ Show full styles

I watched my rival get the tie of prime promotion,
While I received a one-way ticket down the ocean. 
Calculating thirty years of mortgage in my head, 
I fall into a shallow sleep upon a lonely bed.

The boy who chased the open sky is now a broken gear, 
Just turning for the family, and hiding all the fear. 
The days we thought that we’d become the masters of the game, 
Are leaking from my worn-out shoes, with no one left to blame.

The office chills, but suddenly a flash of heat awakes, 
A silent fever in my blood, a wave that softly breaks. 
I wipe the sweat in secret, as the younger faces stare, 
Then walk into a quiet room with just one lonely chair.

The calendar is marked with dates to clean the elder’s room, 
My mother’s pills, my father’s fading memory in the gloom. 
They talked of "shining on your own," a neat and pretty lie, 
My crying is the kettle’s scream under the midnight sky.

The smug successes on the screen preach how we ought to live,
But in the dirt of settling up, you have no more to give.
No answers need to come tonight, don't let your spirit break, 
Within this hour of twilight, look at the choice we make.

We choose to stand, we choose to drift, with pride inside our chest, 
Unconquered in the quiet dark, our weary souls at rest.

Past forty now, and fifty comes to draw a heavy line, 
The world declares that we are done, our stars no longer shine. 
The magic called "potential" has been stripped away by time, 
And only cold realities are left for us to climb.

The man next door, the girl I passed, we share the faded eyes,
We hide the bruises in our coats, beneath the stormy skies. 
But we have lived without a step on any neighbor’s hand, 
This muddy ethics is the rock on which we choose to stand.

In streets that run away from pain, where cowardice is smart,
You held the weight of everyday, and didn't lose your heart. 
We do not need the paper crowns the winners love to wear, 
We’ll take the local train of night, into the misty air.

No corporate chair, no perfect home, the final score is in.
The answers came so ruthlessly, a game we did not win.

But look,
The warmth of the tea you poured for me,
Is melting the frost on my frozen eyes.

Beyond the hour of twilight,
At the edge of this freezing town...

Quietly, the sun rises again.

2302/7500

I watched my rival get the tie of prime promotion, While I received a one-way ticket down the ocean. Calculating thirty years of mortgage in my head, I fall into a shallow sleep upon a lonely bed. The boy who chased the open sky is now a broken gear, Just turning for the family, and hiding all the fear. The days we thought that we’d become the masters of the game, Are leaking from my worn-out shoes, with no one left to blame. The office chills, but suddenly a flash of heat awakes, A silent fever in my blood, a wave that softly breaks. I wipe the sweat in secret, as the younger faces stare, Then walk into a quiet room with just one lonely chair. The calendar is marked with dates to clean the elder’s room, My mother’s pills, my father’s fading memory in the gloom. They talked of "shining on your own," a neat and pretty lie, My crying is the kettle’s scream under the midnight sky. The smug successes on the screen preach how we ought to live, But in the dirt of settling up, you have no more to give. No answers need to come tonight, don't let your spirit break, Within this hour of twilight, look at the choice we make. We choose to stand, we choose to drift, with pride inside our chest, Unconquered in the quiet dark, our weary souls at rest. Past forty now, and fifty comes to draw a heavy line, The world declares that we are done, our stars no longer shine. The magic called "potential" has been stripped away by time, And only cold realities are left for us to climb. The man next door, the girl I passed, we share the faded eyes, We hide the bruises in our coats, beneath the stormy skies. But we have lived without a step on any neighbor’s hand, This muddy ethics is the rock on which we choose to stand. In streets that run away from pain, where cowardice is smart, You held the weight of everyday, and didn't lose your heart. We do not need the paper crowns the winners love to wear, We’ll take the local train of night, into the misty air. No corporate chair, no perfect home, the final score is in. The answers came so ruthlessly, a game we did not win. But look, The warmth of the tea you poured for me, Is melting the frost on my frozen eyes. Beyond the hour of twilight, At the edge of this freezing town... Quietly, the sun rises again.

0/500