Lirieke: Wuthering Heights. Too Great Thy Gift.
I'm freezing; I'm cold
I've fallen into this dark hole
Lights out; in darkness the fears unhold
Drown in waves of no meaning
Through the night I am screaming
Throw me a rope to hold
Empty is the crystal ball; still into emptiness I fall
If I could ride the clouds; if I could crush the hills
Would it mend what's growing chill
How shall I act not to be wasting time
Only a spark; a spark to swift
Too great thy gift
I know not what mighty powers
Granted me this life
But your crown's a heavy load
Lost in this pantomime
I could scream; but noone would hear me
If I could only believe
Empty is the crystal ball; still into emptiness I fall
If I could ride the clouds; if I could crush the hills
Would it mend what's growing chill
How shall I act not to be wasting time
Only a spark; a spark to swift
Too great thy gift
The madman's standing on the hill
Not hearing their laughs; to the sky he cries
You who gave me mind
I hail you, I cruse you
Hear me cry
Give me an answer; how shall I know
Which way to go
Through the road's ahead; too doubtful its bending
Stalling 'til death in fear of its ending
Empty is the crystal ball; still into emptiness I fall
If I could ride the clouds; if I could crush the hills
Would it mend what's growing chill
How shall I act not to be wasting time
Only a spark; a spark to swift
Too great thy gift
I've fallen into this dark hole
Lights out; in darkness the fears unhold
Drown in waves of no meaning
Through the night I am screaming
Throw me a rope to hold
Empty is the crystal ball; still into emptiness I fall
If I could ride the clouds; if I could crush the hills
Would it mend what's growing chill
How shall I act not to be wasting time
Only a spark; a spark to swift
Too great thy gift
I know not what mighty powers
Granted me this life
But your crown's a heavy load
Lost in this pantomime
I could scream; but noone would hear me
If I could only believe
Empty is the crystal ball; still into emptiness I fall
If I could ride the clouds; if I could crush the hills
Would it mend what's growing chill
How shall I act not to be wasting time
Only a spark; a spark to swift
Too great thy gift
The madman's standing on the hill
Not hearing their laughs; to the sky he cries
You who gave me mind
I hail you, I cruse you
Hear me cry
Give me an answer; how shall I know
Which way to go
Through the road's ahead; too doubtful its bending
Stalling 'til death in fear of its ending
Empty is the crystal ball; still into emptiness I fall
If I could ride the clouds; if I could crush the hills
Would it mend what's growing chill
How shall I act not to be wasting time
Only a spark; a spark to swift
Too great thy gift
Wuthering Heights