Nighthawks at dusk came with their two calls
with one like light and the other like loss
my sight held both neither one alone
I could make one stay make one go
there was a mark by no hand on that horizon door
how did you get there? no memory no more
back down the hills there was bone mire and husks
blue dense and frailing in those thousand dusks
but if there's one out there all the time
he is a mirror through inheritance
standing with the sun
in the spinning winds in the spinning winds
with the nighthawks calling loss and light
that line was scratched there in painted steel
above which suns echoed from each day behind me
in a window of loss in a window of light and below was a rendering
with a likeness of me before I could see
but if there's one out there all the time
he is a mirror through inheritance
standing with the sun
and he never left you he never left you
with the nighthawks calling loss and light