In my heart's sequestered chambers lie truths stripped of poets gloss.
Words alone are vain and vacant, and my heart is mute.
In response to aching silence, memory summons half-heard voices, and my soul finds primal eloquence and wraps me in song.
Wraps me in song.
If you would comfort me, sing me a lullaby.
If you would win my heart, sing me a love song.
If you would mourn me and bring me to God, sing me a requiem.
Sing me to heaven.
Touch in me all love and passion.
Pain and pleasure, touch.
Touch in me grief and comfort, love and passion, pain and pleasure.
Sing me a lullaby, a love song, a requiem.
Love me.
Comfort me.
Bring me to God.
Sing me a love song.
Sing me to heaven.
Words alone are vain and vacant, and my heart is mute.
In response to aching silence, memory summons half-heard voices, and my soul finds primal eloquence and wraps me in song.
Wraps me in song.
If you would comfort me, sing me a lullaby.
If you would win my heart, sing me a love song.
If you would mourn me and bring me to God, sing me a requiem.
Sing me to heaven.
Touch in me all love and passion.
Pain and pleasure, touch.
Touch in me grief and comfort, love and passion, pain and pleasure.
Sing me a lullaby, a love song, a requiem.
Love me.
Comfort me.
Bring me to God.
Sing me a love song.
Sing me to heaven.
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