So I hit my low, little did I know that would not be the end.

And I will not tell the thoughts of hell that carried me home, from the Holland Road: with my heart like a stone, I put up no fight.

But I'll still believe, though there's cracks you'll see. When I'm on my knees, I'll still believe. And when I've hit the ground (neither lost nor found), if you'll believe in me, I'll still believe.