The morning's coming up again to the sound of the July fly
You can hear the heat bumping up against the slate-grey sky
Another August a.m. sliding by
There's a heavy smell of rain and though it's passing through
A partly cloudy morning of way too much to do
Mind can't help racing when waking comes too soon
I hear your breath above the fan, it anchors me to earth between my dreams
Of mountainsides and summer sand and love that stays forever young and green
Life's what happened while we made our plans
So, in the darkness, I Take Your Hand.
I Take Your Hand.
I Take Your Hand.