- cifra
Now, who is this kneeling in the sleet
I hold your hand wondering if you hear me there'll be...
Nothing left to say if you stop breathing
So who are you kneeling at my feet
I hold your head begging you: "Please hear me!" - there'll be...
Nothing left to say if you stop breathing
So don't you hold, not your breath for me
Nothing left to say if you stop here...
