WINE AND GATES
taking one for the old man in the rain
cause in the air
worth weal to the limits of sunshine
the reason of our visit is more than care
a history of waiting for the sea for the wine
flowers of a virtue in the rain, we admit the talk
since the reach of survival, the case of angst
is made for a lip of walls that have the words of all
the toes of God show through, the terror of salt and the lank
memory in the patience we call the waters of aids
the rhyme to a reason with the throb of beats of should
the cancer of war is sick with the craze of needs fate
the bitter example of when and where is always could
bite of supper with the longevity of the land
the tread of a sublime martyr in the age of echoes
are you ready to sleep, for the religion at hand?
the horror of salt is in our midst, the pyre of its throes...
the miracle in can we saw...
the road of vows and thanks for a more to life
is still the thread of difference that knew the law
were you are or attest, the day of its strife
we came as we saw
little by little, the war is moreover the lover of our sides
by the cool brides of sanctity that came for the role of the odd
this change in the wind, is a memorial to snide
that which of worlds away, from the call of duty
who is a vision of the future and the mark of decency of the past
will we be as descrimination is, all power and the faith in worldly...
the cache of sincerity is indeed deafening, the dread to the last
piss and fire to live up to the norm
the vague of sorrow to quell the substance of survival like a kicked head
as we are, the riches of sincerity to eat of the filth, like a destitute worm
made from the charge of shame in the light, of instead
afterthoughts of regurgitated men and their lucre of sound
the age of white eyes we call the rest of the story
is more than ages of lament and the rage of guile to pound
at the door of let, be it wars situation or of the story hoary
worth weal to the limits of sunshine
the reason of our visit is more than care
a history of waiting for the sea for the wine
flowers of a virtue in the rain, we admit the talk
since the reach of survival, the case of angst
is made for a lip of walls that have the words of all
the toes of God show through, the terror of salt and the lank
memory in the patience we call the waters of aids
the rhyme to a reason with the throb of beats of should
the cancer of war is sick with the craze of needs fate
the bitter example of when and where is always could
bite of supper with the longevity of the land
the tread of a sublime martyr in the age of echoes
are you ready to sleep, for the religion at hand?
the horror of salt is in our midst, the pyre of its throes...
the miracle in can we saw...
the road of vows and thanks for a more to life
is still the thread of difference that knew the law
were you are or attest, the day of its strife
we came as we saw
little by little, the war is moreover the lover of our sides
by the cool brides of sanctity that came for the role of the odd
this change in the wind, is a memorial to snide
that which of worlds away, from the call of duty
who is a vision of the future and the mark of decency of the past
will we be as descrimination is, all power and the faith in worldly...
the cache of sincerity is indeed deafening, the dread to the last
piss and fire to live up to the norm
the vague of sorrow to quell the substance of survival like a kicked head
as we are, the riches of sincerity to eat of the filth, like a destitute worm
made from the charge of shame in the light, of instead
afterthoughts of regurgitated men and their lucre of sound
the age of white eyes we call the rest of the story
is more than ages of lament and the rage of guile to pound
at the door of let, be it wars situation or of the story hoary
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taking one for the old man in the rain
taking one for the old man in the rain
