The memories lost, and the memories gained
Form a warm blue hue once time has been paid
The longing, the loving, the losing all laid
Are lost in the song of the words that are said

The songs that are sung are hung up in tears
The love that is missing, in its stead, sorrow and fears
And nothing is left, and he’s selling his wares
Nothing, he taunts, such gall that he dares

And the star of the day on the frost-hearted May
Cannot find the light in the plights of its way
Though its own light might shine in the time of its stay
The rays that it breathes are nothing but frayed

For moments the star shines coldly above
Yearning and calling for thoughts lost of
But softly and surely comes the call of the dove
Singing new notes, its enlivening octave

Brings forth the beating, the breathing, the wake
The gold light that’s drifting, almost too hard to take
When the saving is done, saving your sake
When your breathing is won, and nothing is fake