作曲 : The Clientele
When you and I were young
We would press our white faces from the car
And the rain on the windows
Would run through the gathering dark
And the lampposts shone and dogs would run into the dying frame
Where the park was glowing dimly through the silence of the lanes
And the radiator's hum rose above the falling leaves
Where, so fragile and so young, you had drifted into sleep
I've been for a walk
And every face I see seems to be mine
Nighttime comes, the birds have flown
A fever glows in every line
I love this season, this weary night
The flint, the dreams, the silent pines
The eeriness is in the feeling
That I have finished everything
And a child from the school
Was running back to her car
And her white face cried
She was deaf and afraid of the dark
And the whispering house grew still as we stared into the night
In the garden and the lamps and the window's fading light
And though Christmas was the same, we had seen another year
Turning softly through the flames