And The Kiss of God's Mouth Part II

Kiss the image in a stranger's casket 
What has [bad word] of the splendor? 
Twelve strokes have fallen 
And the faintly heard breath 
That argued my beauty 

 [bad word] soul bewailing 
Where the angels allow their wings bewilted 
To droop, to bow to the bosom of a friend 

Kiss me tenderly, savage God 
My lips are dumb to speak a thousand inane words 
And how sweet a toil 
All is dark, all is blackened 
All, but an upturned face