Phoebe

Bells ring out the night, will we ever see home, like a song beseeches why, the Americas near or far, by mountains in the gloam, where we'll make our mark, is land within our sight, a warm embrace of domes, give me your sweet sign, love only turns to tar, when dancers lose their soul, everything becomes stark, in darkness and green light, our lives are surely formed, you always shine so bright, no wonder you're a star, do not need a semaphore, to guide us where we are, through seas alone.