Millions of miles from home In the darkness before the dawn In the swirling of this storm When I'm rolling with the thunder But bleed from thorns Leave a light, a light on.
Millions of miles from home In the darkness before the dawn In the swirling of this storm When I'm rolling with the thunder But bleed from thorns Leave a light, a light on.
'Hush, hush!' I whispered; 'people can have many cousins and of all sorts, Miss Cathy, without being any the worse for it; only they needn't keep their company, if they be disagreeable and bad. — Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights