WINE AND GATES
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pride stood forward
the rage of my fist, music for the soul
let to quicken, the shape of a coward
that has the tooth of indigency of old
more or less the tripe, wouldn't you say?
the cant of coward and the hung question of misery
is a rancid meat the better side of a...
trying to blow one's mind in history...
the tact of suicide
the fear of combustible brains
is a wooly says to which and a ride
the kind of thing we dance for, they gave the rains
nasty was, the truth in an opened bottle
that has a lucky fruit for its general wood, shined
ask the mouse in the corner if this is the time of their, battle
we have come, the stare of a neither in the care of a whined...
and dead, we still the fish in its proverbial bucket
don't even...
the wish of a foremost vaguery of sincerity is always the spit of luck, it
is a tribute to the grim reaper
what does this have to do with a mysterious cloud over the house?
vaunted though a heart of dismay may be, the legend is on its knee's
the pining wish of a candor in the grease, you kicked...
agree with the rage of odd moron's in the steam, and bee...
hearts without a seldom seen question...
the rose of vinegary mouths with a bite of chocolate and carrot...
the cant of sincerity with a boredom for a pet, anheurism...
the logic of a sound lip to kindly, werewolf...
in the end the limestone said hi
limp and raging with a demon, limousine's wore the curiosity
of a wall in the south, that said the arch of golden Nye
we all have it, purpose and virtuosity
the rage of my fist, music for the soul
let to quicken, the shape of a coward
that has the tooth of indigency of old
more or less the tripe, wouldn't you say?
the cant of coward and the hung question of misery
is a rancid meat the better side of a...
trying to blow one's mind in history...
the tact of suicide
the fear of combustible brains
is a wooly says to which and a ride
the kind of thing we dance for, they gave the rains
nasty was, the truth in an opened bottle
that has a lucky fruit for its general wood, shined
ask the mouse in the corner if this is the time of their, battle
we have come, the stare of a neither in the care of a whined...
and dead, we still the fish in its proverbial bucket
don't even...
the wish of a foremost vaguery of sincerity is always the spit of luck, it
is a tribute to the grim reaper
what does this have to do with a mysterious cloud over the house?
vaunted though a heart of dismay may be, the legend is on its knee's
the pining wish of a candor in the grease, you kicked...
agree with the rage of odd moron's in the steam, and bee...
hearts without a seldom seen question...
the rose of vinegary mouths with a bite of chocolate and carrot...
the cant of sincerity with a boredom for a pet, anheurism...
the logic of a sound lip to kindly, werewolf...
in the end the limestone said hi
limp and raging with a demon, limousine's wore the curiosity
of a wall in the south, that said the arch of golden Nye
we all have it, purpose and virtuosity
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Champagne a certain target using...
Champagne a certain target using...
