كلمات The Pale Hours

A sense of movement in silent rooms Dust was raised in ascending spirals Papers rustled in empty grates The wind whistles through rotting frames A sense of movement in silent rooms It was the wind that made the trees move Creating faint shadows that fell throught the cracks Their shades drifting across the old mirror For she comes to me still In the lost time Between sleep and wake In the pale hours A sense of movement in the silent rooms The world reflected in the mirror, subtly different Lonely shape moving within its depths Finding no companion in the old house It was the wind Just the wind A sense of movement in the silent rooms It was the wind that carried these images Of unknown past, a pale forgotten memory Through the glass, into another reality It was the wind Just the wind