Cold

In the garden at night

the whispers of dawn

someone is at the window

when the day is nearly gone

the memories go as far as

the wanderer's eve is willing to reach

the moments are real

the textures are alive

Like the beginning

like the end

In the garden at night

the whispers of dawn

someone is at the window

when the day is nearly gone

the memories go as far as

the wanderer's eye is willing to reach

the moments are real

the textures are alive

Like the beginning

like the end

The memories go as far as

the wanderer's eye is willing to reach

the moments are real

the textures are alive

Like the beginning

like the end