There’s something silver in the wind
that whips and writhes against the glass,
sometimes I think I hear it sing,
but then all at once it’ll pass.
Black winds break trees and seas,
pink winds prance and fair the air.
but there’s something silver in this breeze
that hums a strange, forgotten dare.
Like a lover it lulls your name,
tempting you to take its hand,
but then all at once it shrinks away,
to stream across some other land.
There’s something silver in the wind,
with a siren voice that bows and bends.
But still I long to hear it sing,
before the stormy night can end.