A body of liquid aged to amber, that never slept
yet smelled of dusk
a seeker of sanctuary
now the lengths between where you are and where I stand
is the whisper of wind
letting what remains
be flame
and a quenching sea
A body of liquid aged to amber, that never slept
yet smelled of dusk
a seeker of sanctuary
now the lengths between where you are and where I stand
is the whisper of wind
letting what remains
be flame
and a quenching sea