Guiding light
Well the air is cold,
and yonder lies my sleeping soul,
by the branches broke like bones,
this weakened tree no longer holds,
But the night is still,
and I have not yet lost my will,
and so I will keep on moving 'till,
'till I find my way home.
When I need to get home
you're my guiding light.
You're my guiding light.
Guiding light by Foy Vance
