The Key To Un- Loching

With a storm at night At Wuthering heights I see, that you approach You knew my heart Right from the start My hopes, thy would encroach They say with fear, You can't be here But my senses say, they're wrong And On this Loch, I'll stay and talk Till I see you swim along What is real and what is not I leave to those who are wise As I stay by the lake And talk to the fake That comes real in front of my eyes