The dogs are howling at the midnight moon.
IÃ¢â‚¬â„¢m on my way to where the black rose blooms.
The mountainÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s high, the night is cold.
I feel the sunshine; a black rose grows.
Together again, weÃ¢â‚¬â„¢re as common as sin, they say,
We just walk around the stones they throw.
Night after night, we steal away to where
Love donÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t see no colors in the shadows,
Love donÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t see no colors in the shadows.
Wind in the willows, wild and warm,
Just like the...
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