All that has left

All that has left
So silently,
Wanders among weeds,
Savors sweat as wine
And carnal company…

What of the eastern sun
Which never sets?
What of the whispered tongue
Upon a lovers lips?

All that has left,
Parted with the wind,
And the warmth beneath
The dearest wing.

Sing…
Sing…
Sing…
What of the eastern sun
Which never sets?
What of the whispered tongue
Upon a lovers lips?

I know love
Lets no wicked rest.
And I know grace
Weighs heavy
Upon my chest.