Sometimes when the evening's young

The wind dies down the setting sun,

crochet's the clouds with yarn so fine,

and fills the oceans with red wine.

I see the sky, the forest fair,

bringing flavor to the air.

I raised my glass and in a while,

you answer with a secret smile.

Hold on, with me

Hold on

Hold on, with me

Hold on

An airborne leaf that landed near,

has carried Dionysys here.

I slip away but only when,

he sees our glasses filled again.

Sometimes when the evening's young

The wind dies down the setting sun,

crochet's the clouds with yarn so fine,

and fills the oceans with red wine.

Hold on, with me

Hold on

Hold on, with me

Hold on