Do you know the name of this song or the artist?

Is this it?

This is called And in my darkest hour, I am human.

When shadows dance across my walls, regretting the time I passed

When the spirits of the night come into my room, the hour is surely dark

The warmth has faded, and twilight aches closely, when it comes

I will be gone

And in my darkest hour, I am human

And when I leave this world

Where can my soul fade this late at night?

When god is gone, and my lord is asleep.

And in my darkest hour, I am human

Longing for you, my lover, please join me in the ever evening tide

Like a child, I fear the dark, I fear all things disappearing from my blank state

I fear all.

And In my darkest hour, when all has vanished

Where my brittle bones lay to rest beside the newly awaken world

Freshly born children will venture into later lives and short lived

Spectacles, burned out.

There was a light in your eyes, untraceable by fear

Moved along the night winds, and solitude us in

It calmed my nerves, and settled our souls

But all I see now is darkness.

Anywhere I lay my head, the memories jade and feel the same

My mother holding me, for I am too fragile and afraid

Of the dark, and of my grandfather’s death

Anywhere I lay my head, the fear of the night enters in

When you move your body next to mine

The warmth I felt, where the lust forms our passion

Is cold and hollow, and when your body moves next to me

I feel the place where you soul used to be

And anywhere I lay my head, I am just the same

Near the darkness, I grow close to the light

Anywhere I lay my head is where I lay my death.

They are the ones who freckle carelessly along the borders of the sea

For where we lay our heads, and where we began anew

Our souls are in the sea, and this I believe I will be

Unless the wings of my savior desire a place for me

Regardless, I will be going soon.

And in my darkest hour, I am a soul.

A soul crept out of the womb, and to a possible ill-fed tomb

This does not hold me down, nor cage me in the least bit of worry

I cry to underestimate where, or when could be the time to start

Worrying.

But, this is all revealing too much in my final hour

When my eyes cannot even creep open

To see who is in this room, if it is only the webs

Or the flies that wait for me to finally leave

Such patient souls, I should commend them if they were human

Where my words fail for those with souls, they could understand

Living from a birth to a death in such short time

Sort of comical in a black comedy sort of way

But flies don’t understand humor, logic nor death

Just survival.

This instinct of skill, I forgot

But my lord, my lord will not care!

If I close my eyes, if I give up.

What will happen in my darkest hour?

How should I know how to feel death?

How does something like this cuddle up to me…

And tutorials of being human never included the expectation of the feeling

Of death, oh dear me.

What if I am doing it wrong?

It is nothing like sex, where you can fumble and your love will forgive you

With their precious lips.

Oh my! What if I die wrong, can I?

And what if when I do, I wait too long in the darkness

My wings are clipped, and my soul is not free

I sit there in the dark, waiting for my final resting place

Or is it this?

Blinked out souls, sitting here.

Is there a god?

For I suppose this existential thought should never reach my head

At this late of an hour, since death is coming!

And, at such a final time, I feel as though I should be best dressed

But this worry, it drags my death down to the weary hours of morning

My family, or what is left is getting tired, and must want to go home

To recollect on the dire concept of life, and I simply cannot die for them

Damn!

But, it is that simple…I must let go

Like a monologue, my soul cannot stop

My body must. Become the director who is tired of the incessant ramble

My life is worthy of a published page among the shelves, along the unknown

Crumbled know, I suppose

Oh well, another life can fix that, what else would humans do?

And in my darkest hour, when the final line of the monologue sets in

My final breath erupts from my lips, my soul is dividing into sweet air

Coalescing through the mist, through the rafters, and entering the sky

My body laying there like a casket for a spirit, and a cocoon for the better world.

And in my darkest hour, I am free.

Girls and Boys through Good Charlotte . . . Educated With cash He's good dressed Not humorous And no longer so much to mention in Most conversations But he's going to positioned the invoice in All occasions Cause he will pay for the whole lot Girls do not like boys, ladies like automobiles and cash Boys will giggle at ladies while they are no longer humorous Paper Or plastic Don't subject She'll have it Vacations And looking sprees These are a couple of Of her favorite matters She'll get what she wishes If she's inclined to thrill His variety of lady Always comes with a cost Hey, now, there is not anything free of charge Girls do not like boys, ladies like automobiles and cash Boys will giggle at ladies while they are no longer humorous And those ladies like those boys like those boys like those ladies The ladies with the our bodies like boys with Ferraris Girls do not like boys, ladies like automobiles and cash Let's move! Eh, eh! Girls do not like boys, ladies like automobiles and cash Boys will giggle at ladies while they are no longer humorous And those ladies like those boys like those boys like those ladies The ladies with the our bodies like boys with Ferraris Girls do not like boys, ladies like automobiles and cash All of those boys, yeah and all of those ladies Losing their souls in a fabric international Repeat 3x