I dreamed a dream in days gone by
when hope was high and life worth living.
I dreamed that love would never die. 
I dreamed that God would be forgiving.
Then I was young and unafraid 
and dreams were made and used and wasted.
There was no ransom to be paid, 
no song unsung no wine untasted.
But the tigers come at night 
with their voices soft as thunder.
As they tear your hope apart, 
as they turn your dream to shame. 

He/She slept a summer by my side.
He/She filled my days with endless wonder.
He/She took my childhood in his/her stride.
But he/she was gone when autumn came. 

And still I dreamed he's/she'd come to me,
that we would live the years together.
But there are dreams that cannot be,
and there are storms we cannot weather. 

I had a dream my life would be so diff'rent 
from this hell I'm living, so diff'rent now from what it seemed.
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed.