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Woven Hand
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Orchard Gate
At the orchard gate today Was that tomorrow? Istenem make a fire Kiss your heart Risha, Arabic for feather
In this way, my love Whispers to me Warm, beloved and still This way, my love Come to me
In a language of two hands In this a strange poetry
She is turning, turning in From all the temples of old From all the holds In which it's stowed Turning into gold
In his way through A sacred dimension Not by might, not by power, by his spirit His loving intention His loving intention
Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com In this way, my love Whispers to me Warm, beloved and still In this way, my love Come to me
In a language of two hands This a strange poetry
See the golden chariot wheel It pitches down Down to the bottom of the Red Sea deep I see the end now entertaining thoughts of sleep
In this way, my love Whispers to me Warm, beloved and still In this way, my love Come to me
She is turning, she is turning in In a language of two hands She is turning in, she is turning Turning into old
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