WINE AND GATES
Dust, Eggs, Bourbon, Television, Oil, Nation
tusk
touch and know
the whirl of hair, in the future kiss
is a half eaten sandwich to glow
the rose of urgency
the pole cat of misanthropic cool
the dole of words for a faerie
the pose of need in the bathroom, wool
same as the cure for a cold
we tell the reach of the moon, to being is a gall to kind
fall and know the fold
where the rash bury their dead
neglect the poise of curiosity
penny for your bottom dollar
the reasons we tell a child to keep, virtuosity
the wash of courage in the walls of are
sad eyes from the east
the till of many, is ours
the can't of wishes and the ride of a beast
was but a salt in the nose of powers
Christ and the taste of meat
daughters of music and the pall of boughs of need
sonhood, and the blindness on a road to...
the beckoning of a twinkling star, where we dream
judge me a stilled lover...
and I'll begin to dress, in my courage
the times are yours, mine are a clever...
just like the fury of style in the prayer
john was at home, with a toilet paper
jane was at thumb, the pink eye of hatred
job was at pain, the purpose of a device later
Jerusalem was at war, with an arm full of kids...
touch and know
the whirl of hair, in the future kiss
is a half eaten sandwich to glow
the rose of urgency
the pole cat of misanthropic cool
the dole of words for a faerie
the pose of need in the bathroom, wool
same as the cure for a cold
we tell the reach of the moon, to being is a gall to kind
fall and know the fold
where the rash bury their dead
neglect the poise of curiosity
penny for your bottom dollar
the reasons we tell a child to keep, virtuosity
the wash of courage in the walls of are
sad eyes from the east
the till of many, is ours
the can't of wishes and the ride of a beast
was but a salt in the nose of powers
Christ and the taste of meat
daughters of music and the pall of boughs of need
sonhood, and the blindness on a road to...
the beckoning of a twinkling star, where we dream
judge me a stilled lover...
and I'll begin to dress, in my courage
the times are yours, mine are a clever...
just like the fury of style in the prayer
john was at home, with a toilet paper
jane was at thumb, the pink eye of hatred
job was at pain, the purpose of a device later
Jerusalem was at war, with an arm full of kids...
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Dust, Eggs, Bourbon, Television, Oil, Nation
Dust, Eggs, Bourbon, Television, Oil, Nation
