Now the thick warm cream light
|
fades down into the mist from the sea
|
Three surfers ? tiny black specks
|
out across in the great waves
|
Lanterns of the little town over
|
on the hill ? twilight sweet
|
homecoming
|
It’s all the same
|
And these things we hold
|
in our hearts
|
Like a promise in the salt of
|
our blood
|
Until we come home
|
|
And always the breathing of the
|
breaking surf
|
Drifts through the curtains and
|
through our dreaming
|
And these things we hold
|
to ourselves
|
Like a promise in the salt of
|
our blood
|
Until we come home
|
|
-----------------
|
Twilight Home
|
| New Model Army |
