| «This night is cold,» he said
|
| As he turned from the dark and moved towards the amber light that glowed ahead
|
| «I'll come along,» she spoke
|
| Her eyes remaining on the snow that collected softly in her palm
|
| And with that, she watched her imprint grow
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| As seven bright stars lined up all in a row
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| See, they were once like you
|
| They climbed the valley walls to hear the mountain’s tales of unheard truths
|
| But no one could have learned
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| That they’d be taken one by one by force, the greatness overgrown
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| They’re just a moment too soon
|
| Or a second too late
|
| They were nothing more than a moment too soon
|
| «But what a fate,» she cried,
|
| «Surely there is one who decides which way the wind turns in the morn»
|
| «My darling girl,» he said,
|
| «There is no reason and no rhyme for those we love and those we bid goodbye»
|
| There is no reason and no rhyme
|
| There is no reason, no
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| For those we love and those we must bid goodbye
|
| There’s just a moment too soon
|
| Or a second too late
|
| The phantom of warmth and outline of sorts
|
| Those moments too soon
|
| Or a second too late
|
| Oh, sing to me of loss
|
| There’s just a moment too soon
|
| Or a second too late
|
| The phantom of warmth and outline of sorts
|
| Those souls that I’ve lost
|
| Those perfect ones
|
| Oh, sing to me of loss
|
| I wouldn’t dare try
|
| See, I know not of life and even less of loss
|
| So I wouldn’t dare try |