She stands where the daylight surrenders, The city fades soft in the haze, Her gown burns with luminous splendor, A ghost of the sun's dying rays.
Oh, carry me into the twilight, Where blue meets the last ember glow, Dressed in the threads of the half-light, The only way forward is slow.
She doesn't look back at the morning, Or flinch at the dark drawing near, She wears the last light as a warning — That beautiful things disappear.
Oh, carry me into the twilight, Where blue meets the last ember glow, Dressed in the threads of the half-light, The only way forward is slow.
hoser
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