The Last Pale Light In The West
Ben Nichols
In my hands
I hold the ashes
In my veins
Black pitch runs
In my chest
The fire catches
In my way
A setting sun
Dark clouds
Gather round me
To the West
My soul is bound
But I will go
On ahead free
There is a light
Yet to be found
The Last Pale Light In The West
The Last Pale Light In The West
And I ask
For no redemption
In this cold
And barren place
Still I see
A faint reflection
And so by it
Guide my way
Refrão:
The Last Pale Light In The West
The Last Pale Light In The West
