Nights pass under skies of ancient art, the kind that is told in the stars and graphite-sugar cloud.
The nights bring ever warming air be it under cloud or heaven's eyes, and so I have the courage to dream of Camelot.
Nights of richest blues that become the purest black, hug heaven's eyes so sweetly, the ones that shine so bright.
Black nights come to speak of the expanse of love, of its infinity, for anyone who is heart is willing to listen to the starlight.
The pure black of these velvet nights, upon this road with you, have become the greatest comfort I have ever been blessed with.
The nights in the company of good friends become a sweet song, a silent lyric that serenades our souls and keeps our hearts starlight bright.
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