Текст: David Mead. Echoes of a Heart.

Now I'm crossing Broadway towards a rising sun
In a waking city, I'm a loaded gun
I came home tonight to no one

Not a sound, then it starts
Something speaks from the dark
Not a voice
Only echoes of a heart

Coming off the ceiling, rolling down the hall
Through a vacant feeling like a distant call
I hear nothing but the rise and fall

Not a sound, then it starts
Something speaks from the dark
Not a voice
Only echoes of a heart

Comes around, close and far
Deepest place, softest part
Not a voice
Only echoes of a heart