Tonight, the wind sings, "Welcome home."
In a soft, sighing language that the dusk wrote upon the sky in starlight for you,
And you alone.
This place missed you. It was mournful all winter long.
Tonight, the wind sings, "Welcome home."
In a soft, sighing language that the dusk wrote upon the sky in starlight for you,
And you alone.
This place missed you. It was mournful all winter long.
