Behind your window the town is falling asleep.
My path is crowned with stars in a pre-dawn sky...
Your room is flooded with spring morning sunlight
My steps are hidden by December snowstorm
With an old white feather, drowned in raindrops
I write you letters on October leaves.
The winds will retell them to you in dreams
and spring will weave into your hair the song of May
My path is crowned with stars in a pre-dawn sky...
Your room is flooded with spring morning sunlight
My steps are hidden by December snowstorm
With an old white feather, drowned in raindrops
I write you letters on October leaves.
The winds will retell them to you in dreams
and spring will weave into your hair the song of May