With clipper ships and pink electric trees, Dawnlight on a skyline bridges' span, Street light on a rooftop memory. A melody in your name.
Night now comes much bluer than it used to be.
The pink nun sings much sadder than before. She sings that sometimes things aren't what they Seem to be, like moons reflected on the sixteenth floor. Love is no more, it's ended. Keep your answers, let me find my own.