‘Cause it comes a time when
Now or never, with hindsight,
in spite of all
Things go back to their places…
… and me… to what I am
… to what I am
Every page of my story has got a number, a dog-ear
Every word first untold left maybe consciously in blank…
Now it’s written, has a meaning, a scrawl
Defining the events, (you) can read them again
‘Cause you’ve not ashamed to show your eyes of pain…
‘Cause it comes a time when
Now or never, with hindsight, in spite of all
Things go back to their places
Birds go back to their nests
Answers back to their questions
And me… to what I am
Every picture of my story has some colors, a jam stain
Every page first skipped left maybe consciously in blank…
Now it’s drawn, has some figures, a dog-ear
Defining the events, (you) can see them again
‘Cause you’re not afraid to meet your eyes of rain…
‘Cause it comes a time when
Now or never, with hindsight, in spite of all
Things go back to their places
Shells echo their seas
Answers join up to their questions
And me… and me… to what I am
Every chapter of my story has got a sense, a torn page
Every picture first avoided left maybe consciously in blank
Now it’s complete, has some episodes, a jam stain…
Defining the events, (you) can live them again
‘Cause you’re not afraid anymore to live by your own way
Things go back to their places
You go back to your fishing rods
Answers back to their questions
And me… who cares of me…… to what I am