On the edge of
The horizon,
When the last of light gives way,
The swell of the tide
Will serve as your guide,
And spirit drift away.
Every twilight,
Every sunrise,
We will glide upon a wave.
And I promise to be
What fate asks of me,
From waking to the grave.
The horizon,
When the last of light gives way,
The swell of the tide
Will serve as your guide,
And spirit drift away.
Every twilight,
Every sunrise,
We will glide upon a wave.
And I promise to be
What fate asks of me,
From waking to the grave.