Books are immortal sons deifying their sires.

Plato

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Angeles
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Ca sĩ: Enya
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Angels, answer me,
are you near if rain should fall?
Am I to believe
you will rise to calm the storm?
For so great a treasure words will never do.
Surely, if this is,
promises are mine to give you.
mine to give...
 
Here, all too soon the day!
Wish the moon to fall and alter tomorrow.
I should know
heaven has her way
- each one given memories to own.
 
Angeles, all could be
should you move both earth and sea
Angeles, I could feel
all those dark clouds disappearing...
 
Even, as I breathe
comes an angel to their keep.
Surely, if this is
promises are mine to give you.
mine to give...