When my eyes survey the treeline
I'll recall a voice, and how I took great care with words
for all that was a picture was a poem
words were trees of brown and gold
you were a place I had come to know

If the dark falls early, would you come in the night?
Would you come in the Morning?
Come by fire or come by storm?

When my days turn to gold, and pull to the sky
I'll recall a time I was more alive, and lose myself to 
words
Did I die in your arms, or did I die alone?
And When the dark fell on me
Did you come in the night? Did you come in the Morning?
Come by fire or come by storm?