Richard Harris — In the Final Hours

In the final hours With all my toy dreams tattered With all my singing scattered Out upon the wind And now the end Will find me Not prepared and strong the way I thought I was But thinking from the start How very caught I was, as though it mattered now Now the dying flowers Sing an old song that haunts me And now nobody wants me All alone (all alone) Lost between the last of summer showers These are the final hours (In the final hours) (In the final hours)