Dust of the wind is falling as the breeze comes to an end,
and I ask that you'll be there for me to hold my hand my friend,
in the moonrise you see the last glimpse of the sun,
the crickets of the field,
and the wild wolves on the run,
but before I close my mind to sleep,
I sit in bed and softly weep,
for the memories of the past,
I wish they could last,
and our love we might always keep.
