Bad

winds...

Small

breeze...

Hol-

low

ice...

Au-

tumns

now

shall

shine...

O-

ceans...

Move-

less

e-

ven-

ti-

i-

ide...

Far

a-

way

from

sight...

From

the

moon-

light

bring

up

dreams

Straight

from

hands

to

thee

Old

born

town

On

the

s-

tre-

e-

ets

Nights,

Games,

Fan-

ta-

sy

My

dreams

and

thoughts

and

fa-

ate

The

balance's

at

your

feet

Oh

an-

gel

born

too

la-

ate,

For

fore-

man

to

meet

For

live

with

emo-

tions

must

I

dream

to

think

you're

mine

What

pu-

ri-

ty

I've

lost

so

ten-

der

as

the

wine

In

what

mu-

se

senses

froze

this?

Could

the

lights

feel

weak?

But

dreams

are

far

to

me-

ee,

The

balance's

at

your

feet

Oh

an-

gel

born

too

la-

ate,

For

fallen

men

to

meet

What

pu-

re

emo-

tions

must

I

dream

to

think

you're

mine

What

pu-

ri-

ty

I've

lost

so

ten-

der,

I

should

find...

A-

round

my

care-

less

world,

I

dre-

e-

eam

to

think

you're

mine

What

pu-

ri-

ty

I've

lost,

so

ten-

der

and

di-

vine?

What

pu-

ri-

ty

I've

lost

!oh

the-

e-

ee!

to

think

you're

mine

Do-

own

to

the

fal-

ling

leaves

that

are

brok-

ened

throught

the

dance

A-

round

my

care-

less

words

I'd

dre-

am

to

think

you're

mine

Oh!

What

a

pu-

ri-

ty

I-

've

lo-

o-

o-

o-

ost...