Well if love's like an ember in the evening rain, and the stars in the sky are calling your name, I'll fare thee goodbye as you fly from my hands, and I'll melt like ash into the evening sands.

And if I see you a flight in the stars above, soaring through dreams my green eyed dove, I'll smile in the moonlight and throw up my hands, and melt like ash into the evening sands.

How many seas must my white dove sail, how many years my heart grow frail, 'fore she sleeps in the moonlit warmth of my hands, and we melt like ash into the evening sands.