What have I done, sweet Jesus, what have I done

Become a thief in the night, become a doe on the run,

Have I fallen so far, while is the hour so late,

That nothing remanes but the cry of my hate,

That cries in the dark, that nobody hears,

Here where I stand at the turning of the years.



If there is another way to go,

I risked it twenty long years ago,

My life was a war that could never be won,

They gave me a number and murded Valjean,

Where they chained me and let me for dead,

Just for stealing a mouth full of bread.



Yet why did I allow that man,

To touch my sould and teach me love,

He treated me like any other,

He gave me his trust,

He called me “brother”.

My life he claimes for god above,

Can such things be?

For I had come to hate the world,

This world that always hated me.



Take a knife for an eye,

Turn your heart into stone,

This is all I have lived for,

This is all I have known.



One life from him, and I’ld be back,

Beneath the lash upon the rack.

Instead he offers me my freedom,

I feel my shame inside me like a knife,

He told me that I had a soul.

How does he know?

What spirit comes to move my life,

Is there another way to go.



I am reaching, but I fall,

And the night is closing in,

And I stare into the voide,

To the ... of my sinn,

I’ll escape now from the world,

From the world of Jean Valjean,

Jean Valjean is nothing now,

Another story must begin