When my eyes survey the tree line I'll recall a voice And how I took great care with words All that was A picture was A poem was a poem Words were trees of brown of gold You were a place I had come to know If the dark falls early Would you come in the night Would you come with the morning Come by fire or come by storm When my days turn to gold Turn to gold And pull to the sky To the sky I'll recall the time I was more alive When I lose myself to words Did I die in your arms Or did I die alone? When the dark fell on me Did you come in the night Did you come with the morning Come by fire or come by storm