White frost on the iron gate
The evening arrives too late
A moth with a paper wing
Waiting for the cold to sting
Pale wings in the winter air
Silver glow and frozen glare
Watching o'er the apple tree
Still as any stone could be
I've driven the midnight beat
Old tires on a salted street
I know how the wind can blow
Hiding all the tracks in snow
Pale wings in the winter air
Silver glow and frozen glare
Watching o'er the apple tree
Still as any stone could be
He circles a ghost of light
A tiny spark in the night
The orchard is dressed in white
Holding on with all his might
Pale wings in the winter air
Silver glow and frozen glare
Watching o'er the apple tree
Still as any stone could be
The engine hums a low old song
The road is wide and the night is long
A moth is just a drifting fare
Looking for a breath of air
The moon is a copper dime
A clock that has run out of time
The branches are heavy and low
Weighted by the falling snow
Pale wings in the winter air
Silver glow and frozen glare
Watching o'er the apple tree
Still as any stone could be
Shift the gear, fade the light. Goodnight, little wing.
Goodnight.
