WINE AND GATES
pervetc, and the whether up there
front to back
with a bid for fresher cream
the range of voice to simply lack
the which in the wry of a whim
like bread
the stilled language of sincerity to find in the grease
is forever the liberty to have said
the portion of gall, and the quick push of ease
such a small life to claim
the would of sour hate
as we earn the rain
a cloud to give its all, and evaporate
into a dread well of situations of vengeance
the tried future in the end of the argument
supplant the hard fruit of another instance
we fake the truth, to a lip that said went
the book on the subject, intrusion
the forsaken and the being elect, dusty kinds
of realization that has the moment to live in the skin
of those that invent the rhymes
so to end a book on the marvels of hell
this is the rest of a suicideal sunlight
the thanks on the behalf of a moon in time, with a bell
it again, the tone of mercy to be found in the turn of might...
epitaph to a living misery
in the yard of droll tea pots and the murder of a simple muffin
this water is blue, to the question of all and history
think hero, think heroin, think the ashes and the puffin'
with a bid for fresher cream
the range of voice to simply lack
the which in the wry of a whim
like bread
the stilled language of sincerity to find in the grease
is forever the liberty to have said
the portion of gall, and the quick push of ease
such a small life to claim
the would of sour hate
as we earn the rain
a cloud to give its all, and evaporate
into a dread well of situations of vengeance
the tried future in the end of the argument
supplant the hard fruit of another instance
we fake the truth, to a lip that said went
the book on the subject, intrusion
the forsaken and the being elect, dusty kinds
of realization that has the moment to live in the skin
of those that invent the rhymes
so to end a book on the marvels of hell
this is the rest of a suicideal sunlight
the thanks on the behalf of a moon in time, with a bell
it again, the tone of mercy to be found in the turn of might...
epitaph to a living misery
in the yard of droll tea pots and the murder of a simple muffin
this water is blue, to the question of all and history
think hero, think heroin, think the ashes and the puffin'
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pervetc, and the whether up there
pervetc, and the whether up there
