A soft night where the candle lashes at the ceiling
breaking and making, a hundred veils.
With the quiet flame mirroring every rising step
and every fall, and fleeing razor breeze
a melting darkness and shrinking quiet.
A soft night where the candle lashes at the ceiling
breaking and making, a hundred veils.
With the quiet flame mirroring every rising step
and every fall, and fleeing razor breeze
a melting darkness and shrinking quiet.