If everyone were to agree,
the drive for progress would be gone.

It hurts me to think
of those restless nights
when I sat on your lap,
a pen in my heart;
a dove caught between my teeth.

I spilt ink upon  your night dress.
It shone silver with candlelight
and I was reminded of the mysteries
that spun starlight into constellations.

But then I remember;
the way you stroked my hair
and I remembered
the tobacco stains on your lips.
And it took the hurt away.

O! Sweetness, thy name is wind,
Thou follow a black horse
That colours the foundation of this crowded house
In living saffron.

Let me take thy noble brow
And crown it with a kiss,
Let me place upon thy shoulders
a mantle which outstrips the rarity of griffin fur.

For thy skin is parchment upon which
Perfection writes its holy name.

O! Sweetness, thy name is wind,
And as the breeze
I shall ne'er hold thee in my grasp.

We are the eternal marriage
Of blood and mind.
The saints in their rapture
Ne'er held eyes as sweet
Nor hands that unearthed a homecoming.

But I, lost among the found
Stranger in A strange land
Have but the dawn to spin for your veil
And each star forged in the host of man,
Will take your cheek only to gift a kiss
Upon your lips.

With surf stained sigh
These are the dreams
In which I sink
And tomorrow you will think of me,
And tomorrow you will think of me

As I remember
These leprous hands
Which once danced in
Carfuné
Betraying a dream.

Dance me to the end
with your beauty
in each hand

Dance me, lover
Dance me.

through the shades of beer
and the nights we missed
let me hold you tight
and baptise with a kiss.

I will take my body
I will put it on trial.
for a moment of your cruelty
in the summer of your smile.

Dance me, lover,
Dance me.

Dance me to the end
with your beauty
in each hand
to the pyre of your love
in the summer of your smile.

I sank a lie in the harbour,
watched it sink like a stone.
Your beauty an apostle
asked me to live quite alone.

The streets are empty of your laughter
wild birds still flitter and fly,
The children carry on playing
as every rose withers and dies.

The scent of your dew on my fingers,
the place where death goes to die.
A memory that breathes as it lingers
on the fringe of an innocent sigh.

The black dress you left here one evening
full of bats and sinister themes,
drapes an elegant coffin
in both life and my dreams.

Snapshots carved in my pillow
of the place where death goes to die,
chipped with a sharpened halo
once trapped between your thighs.

I found the place we once roamed
with my back turned to the sea,
a quick snap of my fingers
called death to die with me.

Instead he sang as a singer
"If I go you'll never be free,
in dream this love will linger,
in song and in memory."

The streets drowned in your laughter,
wild birds flitter and fly,
I light a candle on the altar
at the place where death goes to die.