| Dawn… like an angel
|
| Lights on the step
|
| Muting the morning she heralds
|
| Dew on the grass
|
| Like the tears the night wept
|
| Gone long before
|
| The day wears old
|
| Times stills the singing
|
| A child holds so dear
|
| And I’m just beginning to hear
|
| Gone are the pathways
|
| The child followed home
|
| Gone, like the sand and the foam
|
| Pressed in the pages
|
| Of some aging text
|
| Lies an old lily a-crumbling
|
| Marking a moment
|
| Of childish respects
|
| Long since betrayed and forgotten
|
| Times stills the singing
|
| A child holds so dear
|
| And I’m just beginning to hear
|
| Gone are the pathways
|
| The child followed home
|
| Gone, like the sand and the foam
|
| Dawn… like an angel
|
| Lights on the step
|
| Muting the morning she heralds
|
| Dew on the grass
|
| Like the tears the night wept
|
| Gone long before
|
| The day wears old
|
| Times stills the singing
|
| A child holds so dear
|
| And I’m just beginning to hear
|
| Gone are the pathways
|
| The child followed home
|
| Gone, like the sand and the foam
|
| Gone like the sand (gone like the sand)
|
| Gone, like the sand and the foam |