Wilsen

Dusk

Wilsen
So I'm often told the dusk, it clears the way somehow
Light between the leaves is casting this town green

I'm on the fence
I'm on the fence, looking for some hope for us
Now the day is done, the dusk descends

There's nothing ​finer than the draw of summer's spell
The cypress trees are swaying in the ​drunken wind

Your ​looks are kind
These are the times, I cannot refuse them

Maybe there's no harm in trying
Myriad of hope is coming soon

Dusk is rolling in
Dusk is rolling in
Dusk is rolling in
Dusk is rolling in
​It rolls
​It rolls
​It rolls
​It rolls

Dusk is rolling in
Dusk is rolling in
Dusk is rolling in
Dusk is rolling in
​It rolls
​It rolls
​It rolls
​It rolls

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