Small Hours

Lyrics

There's a god who only works at night Between the hours of three and four When the body's at its lowest And the mind walks through the door He doesn't take confession He doesn't grant a thing He just sits beside the sleepless And lets the truth come in The god of small hours Knows what you've done The god of small hours Knows what you've become He shows you what you buried And he points you to the grave The god of small hours Knows you'll never be the same Every lie you told at noon Comes calling at three fifteen Every face you ever wore Stands trial in between And the man who lives in daylight Is not the man who wakes The god of small hours knows Which one of them is fake The god of small hours Knows what you've done The god of small hours Knows what you've become He shows you what you buried And he points you to the grave The god of small hours Knows you'll never be the same And the only way to beat him Is to meet him at the door Sit down at his table Pour the whiskey on the floor Tell him every rotten thing You ever did or thought Let him write it in his book Let him show you what you've got The god of small hours Knows what you've done The god of small hours Knows what you've become He shows you what you buried And he points you to the grave The god of small hours Knows you'll never be the same