WINE AND GATES
patches that seldom like to kick, untoward
fried tomatoes
aluded to, in aphrodites frying pan
scent and the legion of carnal knowledge we took in toe
the head of a shadowy figure is about to know, ran
salt and vinegar
the turn of malaise into a world of girded misery
thank you powers of control and the vogue of more
this hand of conscience has a mere of history
sand and the formula of deem
we tell the treasure of sincerity to be
the life in the rich kind of solitude that has the keep
of a hardship, that won the race to a moments key
now is the try, of time in the knock of darkness around us
we have a terror to groom, for the take of now
that is, a logic of burden to seem as was
the lips of survival show us a credance of how
ought before already won
the still of committment is with toward like and nice
the redress of hunger
are you a semblance of counts of the are of wives?
because you are the thought of tomorrow
and the now, my simplicity to irk the still of the night
where we sound the blessing, is a change of wards to harrow
but in the song of passion to kind and come, is the turn of might
aluded to, in aphrodites frying pan
scent and the legion of carnal knowledge we took in toe
the head of a shadowy figure is about to know, ran
salt and vinegar
the turn of malaise into a world of girded misery
thank you powers of control and the vogue of more
this hand of conscience has a mere of history
sand and the formula of deem
we tell the treasure of sincerity to be
the life in the rich kind of solitude that has the keep
of a hardship, that won the race to a moments key
now is the try, of time in the knock of darkness around us
we have a terror to groom, for the take of now
that is, a logic of burden to seem as was
the lips of survival show us a credance of how
ought before already won
the still of committment is with toward like and nice
the redress of hunger
are you a semblance of counts of the are of wives?
because you are the thought of tomorrow
and the now, my simplicity to irk the still of the night
where we sound the blessing, is a change of wards to harrow
but in the song of passion to kind and come, is the turn of might
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patches that seldom like to kick, untoward
patches that seldom like to kick, untoward
