Wovenhand - Orchard Gate lyrics

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 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