Oi! Rising ash, falling snow, she used to lie and adore ye Winding long tails of woe, she used to lie and adore ye Nightingale, ashen-pale, whistling tunes, yeah, the moon still adores ye Now, now, you're so young and proud, But another name for that will be 'lonely' Pick the lock, sweep the floor, leave without a sound Just allow the empty space to heal Oi! Bound in chains with a thousand rains; no wonder the storm still adores ye Hold me down or hold me now, screaming, "I still love and adore ye!" Past the door, winter storms through the streets of your unending longings Flow down now to frost the ground Like cool Hallelujahs On the that connects us; high, high above all this torrent Should you fall down, that wall of sound's howling, "I still love and adore ye!" Pick the lock, sweep the floor, leave without a sound Just allow the empty space to heal Oi!