Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Grants
Walls and halls,
So narrow, I fall
Upon my knees,
To see that I be
Bowing before a
Stranger called god.
So odd, the wood
From the fire wriggles
Like a worm,
Dances like a wren
In the wilderness,
Dying to die, dying
To the weight of temptation.
Whistle, step upon
A thistle and wince,
Since pain is so new, it's
Foreign like a winter in hell.
I work the word, to
Brew the writing in
Reds and golds,
A wish of waves
Drenching me in prayer.
A puppet to dance,
Blisters to lance and an
Opening in my glance,
Come inside, stay awhile.
2-17-10
So narrow, I fall
Upon my knees,
To see that I be
Bowing before a
Stranger called god.
So odd, the wood
From the fire wriggles
Like a worm,
Dances like a wren
In the wilderness,
Dying to die, dying
To the weight of temptation.
Whistle, step upon
A thistle and wince,
Since pain is so new, it's
Foreign like a winter in hell.
I work the word, to
Brew the writing in
Reds and golds,
A wish of waves
Drenching me in prayer.
A puppet to dance,
Blisters to lance and an
Opening in my glance,
Come inside, stay awhile.
2-17-10
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Grants
Grants