Foster the Good Night

Foster the good night and now I kiss her lip's. The moon is high and full to both my eye's. After having lived my day's to dream inside her head. I cry upon her breast's. For only in their ear at night, can I speak of day. Day and what like I've not done, I pray not Speak at all. Father time is catching up the grape's are full and ripe, and the fruit has all been picked. The moral voice that is no more that speaks, to what was never done, being false won't speak at all. The hay is sweet and green the tree's are tall, wrapped in vines the once that full bush now aged, will never speak at all. Naked amongst the rocks the sea it calls, And sand once white is all but red and foam once white Is blown by wind away. The day's are long and most are tired to tired, to know what's right. And rare and far between we try to foster the Good night.