WINE AND GATES
Just To Show It, The Patience Of A Shoe
competing with God
completing the road
comparing prayers with times nod
combining the tongue to hold
horror from a dole
try, the sincerity of guilt, in the true
torture from a friend, this and old
pennies for a question to the new
the thought of suicide in our tum
think little poise of needs nature
in the end of times, is your thumb's number
being called, the waste of a curious face, is it pure?
practicing magic, for a fruit in the dark
these warts and daunting arts...
think the truth a rape of ear's to hark
upon the throne of a king of that smart's...
humor aside
the call of sin was with us one step more
the face of guile upon the throat of shied...
words from a wish to soar
birds in the fair, living for a sense in the care
of worth, to finish its meal of liberty
the rose to pluck from the table, the vengeance of a palpable liar
the voice of conscience alive, in the thought of puberty
on fire, with an isolated scream
the tact of sedition for a qualm of silence
why, the tour of a craving for a demon...
to climb a hill of soul's, that damned the chance...
where?
the grave is made from a salt, the nature of things to come
the place was kept tidy and clean of queer...
this serpentry is a fate for some...
my pretty face for a song in the key of heaven
the laugh of a soul in future contempt, the way is can a honor's rhyme?
the pace of need in the tripe, of a thinking man's curse for leaven
this time of crushes of existence have a sameness, to and...
completing the road
comparing prayers with times nod
combining the tongue to hold
horror from a dole
try, the sincerity of guilt, in the true
torture from a friend, this and old
pennies for a question to the new
the thought of suicide in our tum
think little poise of needs nature
in the end of times, is your thumb's number
being called, the waste of a curious face, is it pure?
practicing magic, for a fruit in the dark
these warts and daunting arts...
think the truth a rape of ear's to hark
upon the throne of a king of that smart's...
humor aside
the call of sin was with us one step more
the face of guile upon the throat of shied...
words from a wish to soar
birds in the fair, living for a sense in the care
of worth, to finish its meal of liberty
the rose to pluck from the table, the vengeance of a palpable liar
the voice of conscience alive, in the thought of puberty
on fire, with an isolated scream
the tact of sedition for a qualm of silence
why, the tour of a craving for a demon...
to climb a hill of soul's, that damned the chance...
where?
the grave is made from a salt, the nature of things to come
the place was kept tidy and clean of queer...
this serpentry is a fate for some...
my pretty face for a song in the key of heaven
the laugh of a soul in future contempt, the way is can a honor's rhyme?
the pace of need in the tripe, of a thinking man's curse for leaven
this time of crushes of existence have a sameness, to and...
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Just To Show It, The Patience Of A Shoe
Just To Show It, The Patience Of A Shoe
