WINE AND GATES
Doldrum Angers Violent Instinct Directly
rather the day of the flake
fruit and the silly old hoot
in the bells and whistles of a lake
we notice the signs in common with a fished up boot
fess up to the now and the how of aliases
a tick tock of the modern sunshine we expect
was a here and now need to know the failings
of a crime in the seat of a boat, to wreck
a storm approaches on the horizon, the neglect of simplicity in its belly
wells and billing the land for the water, like a villain
the trip back to the house is a work indeed, rowing for wielding
the sublime kisses in the wind are for tests of the soul, all good and willing
the house was mentioned in the annal of a knowing guarantee
found in this corner of dirt, where the treacle makes promises
and a lip of honour to the man that can same the way to it, a feat
we found the fire cozy, the now and the summation of sunshine for a days glowing is
someone began to tell a story, about a thief in the rain running from the law
he comes to a house, and knocks on the door to seek shelter and hide
someone opens, and the thief asks, "per chance good soul, may i stay out the storm?"
and offers a jewel in return for lodging, and without a bit of snide
they accept but are curious about his coming and goings
just then another knock is heard at the door
and upon opening the door find an officer of the law standing there, quiet and blowing
asking have you seen a strange man tonight, with a thought they point for knowing
only to see the thief no where in sight, and a back door swinging wildly in the rain
the story was simple and seemed to have no end, when there was a knock at the door
opening it revealed a man coming in the from the cold rain, asking for shelter until passed
he offered a bottle of alcohol for his lodging, and we drank from it until were
round about this time, another knock was heard, and someone opened the door
a tall man stood there, saying he was the law, and that the man was an escapee
when the escapee smashed the bottle on his head and the man slumped to the floor
nobody would move, the man observed the situation and moved to the window to see
suddenly the rain stopped and an angels bell was heard, seeing the rainbow
he walked out of the house into the sunshine, and was gonbe in a flash
people surmised, people ascertained that the man had gone, and with a blow
saw to the police officer and his ache of a head and the persistance of as
moral of a story without a good beginning or end
the way we are, the salt in our veins and the lip of chance that makes us what we are
is found where we accept the days to have the loving of legend
this much we keep as a question of the act of pace to give a war
which, in the end is a child's query to a habit of parents
the mark of substance that makes me a heart of frustration, is a wield of time
mortal like lions, sordid like lambs, we teach the earth to know sense
yet i give the same to any and all, having the wishes of a mete of necessity's rhyme
would you live in the shadows of memory, or the nuance of daylight?
for we have found our courage in a far off cloud, maybe greater by speed
it comes, the not of needs and nourished life to tell for a might
that has the way they are, blind, for a coin of seldom seen heed
maybe tomorrow, the feather of a song bird will share its strength
maybe as levity, the regret of a cancer in the land will be agony's milk
maybe for duress, the twitch of being in a care of a tear will know length
maybe come today, the momentum of curiousity will seek the reason for ilk
fruit and the silly old hoot
in the bells and whistles of a lake
we notice the signs in common with a fished up boot
fess up to the now and the how of aliases
a tick tock of the modern sunshine we expect
was a here and now need to know the failings
of a crime in the seat of a boat, to wreck
a storm approaches on the horizon, the neglect of simplicity in its belly
wells and billing the land for the water, like a villain
the trip back to the house is a work indeed, rowing for wielding
the sublime kisses in the wind are for tests of the soul, all good and willing
the house was mentioned in the annal of a knowing guarantee
found in this corner of dirt, where the treacle makes promises
and a lip of honour to the man that can same the way to it, a feat
we found the fire cozy, the now and the summation of sunshine for a days glowing is
someone began to tell a story, about a thief in the rain running from the law
he comes to a house, and knocks on the door to seek shelter and hide
someone opens, and the thief asks, "per chance good soul, may i stay out the storm?"
and offers a jewel in return for lodging, and without a bit of snide
they accept but are curious about his coming and goings
just then another knock is heard at the door
and upon opening the door find an officer of the law standing there, quiet and blowing
asking have you seen a strange man tonight, with a thought they point for knowing
only to see the thief no where in sight, and a back door swinging wildly in the rain
the story was simple and seemed to have no end, when there was a knock at the door
opening it revealed a man coming in the from the cold rain, asking for shelter until passed
he offered a bottle of alcohol for his lodging, and we drank from it until were
round about this time, another knock was heard, and someone opened the door
a tall man stood there, saying he was the law, and that the man was an escapee
when the escapee smashed the bottle on his head and the man slumped to the floor
nobody would move, the man observed the situation and moved to the window to see
suddenly the rain stopped and an angels bell was heard, seeing the rainbow
he walked out of the house into the sunshine, and was gonbe in a flash
people surmised, people ascertained that the man had gone, and with a blow
saw to the police officer and his ache of a head and the persistance of as
moral of a story without a good beginning or end
the way we are, the salt in our veins and the lip of chance that makes us what we are
is found where we accept the days to have the loving of legend
this much we keep as a question of the act of pace to give a war
which, in the end is a child's query to a habit of parents
the mark of substance that makes me a heart of frustration, is a wield of time
mortal like lions, sordid like lambs, we teach the earth to know sense
yet i give the same to any and all, having the wishes of a mete of necessity's rhyme
would you live in the shadows of memory, or the nuance of daylight?
for we have found our courage in a far off cloud, maybe greater by speed
it comes, the not of needs and nourished life to tell for a might
that has the way they are, blind, for a coin of seldom seen heed
maybe tomorrow, the feather of a song bird will share its strength
maybe as levity, the regret of a cancer in the land will be agony's milk
maybe for duress, the twitch of being in a care of a tear will know length
maybe come today, the momentum of curiousity will seek the reason for ilk
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Doldrum Angers Violent Instinct Directly
Doldrum Angers Violent Instinct Directly
