She's the light brush of wings of a myriad thing, In the place between summer and winter, She's the last ray of light in the cold dark of night, She's sudden and secret, I know you hear me whenever you're near me. She's the first to be heard and the last dying word, As the tear stains collect on your pillow, She's the shape in the rain through a cold windowpane, She suddenly sees you, I know you hear me whenever you're near me.