What have I done, sweet Jesus, what have I done? Become a thief in the night, become a dog on the run? And have I fallen so far? And is the hour so late that nothing remains but the cry of my hate? The cries in the dark that nobody hears? Here I stand at the turning of the years. There's another way to go, I've missed it twenty long years ago. My life was a war that could never be won, they gave me a number, I met a valjean, when they chained me and left me for dead, just so stealing a mouthful of bread. Yet why did I allow this man to touch my soul and teach me love? He treated me like any other, he gave me his trust, he called me brother, my life he claims for God above. How can such things be? For I had come to hate the world, this world that always hated me. Take an eye for an eye, turn your heart into stone, this is all I have lived for, this is all I have now. One word from him and I'll be back, beneath a lash upon the rack. Instead he offers me my freedom, I feel my shame inside me like a knife. He told me that I have 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, as I stare into the void, to the whirlpool of my sin. I'll escape now from that world, from the world of Jean Valjean. Jean Valjean is nothing now, another story must begin.