HOPE - Robot Koch, Delhia De France

When the light is low

I can feel it grow

Like a reaching hand

When the fevers rise

And the noise has died

From the preaching man

When the skies forlorn

And the fate had won

It still keeps me out

Reaching all I have

When the light is low

I can feel it grow

Like a reaching hand

When the fevers rise

And the noise has died

From the preaching man

All the ghosts conjured

Take away the hurt

It takes the reaching hand

Hope is the hardest to kill

Hope is the hardest to kill

It won’t die

It won’t die until

Pain consumed me

Hate to face the blade

That cuts you from

From the reaching hand

When the slide is glow

I can feel it grow

Like a reaching hand

When the fevers rise

And the voices cry

For the preaching man

There’s a ray of light

Gazing through my eyes

Like a reaching hand

Hope is the hardest to kill

Hope is the hardest to kill

It is kind

And I’m one eye blind