WINE AND GATES
About Even, If A House Notices The Horse
squashed, smashed, ashed
the toe in your side, the flag snapping on your head
is a walking vengeance the only way to find joy, cached
a smile from the neglected thoughts of a suicide in the lead
a fragile harmony, in the times for a fruit to say hello
the knock of naked things for the boot of soul's, like here and mouths
the target of sound, in your vanity we see the seldom to bellow
providence is a meter of sincerity to kick the game alive, around
their terrors, the teeth of curiosity in a jaded clay
in the form of sultry messages to the nerve, the cope of turns in the eaves
simple, sordid, the frugal remains of liberty to say
the toes of shapes of things to come, with a snap of what deceives...
death, droll diversion or dependency
as simple as that, poise is meant for the asked for notion
to overwhelm the candor of silence in the hands of a wicked intimacy
made for forever, the future is a length of winds to take their portion...
a penny made a lip of caution for the anarchy of religion in their eyes...
of summation, the history of credence made the bastard of a chin with milk...
the play of curiosity for a crazed manhood, with a burn to his smothering, rhymes...
the day of instinct via the ear of virtuosity, is this anger the punch of ilk...?
question of the year of strangers to the bar, where is the time...?
in my stead, a comb of notoriety that sits for the proper, if not pepper due
still as steel, the waters come for the duty of callous where's, whens, and whines
would you act upon the shoulder of damnation, the stirring of a lands clue?
the toe in your side, the flag snapping on your head
is a walking vengeance the only way to find joy, cached
a smile from the neglected thoughts of a suicide in the lead
a fragile harmony, in the times for a fruit to say hello
the knock of naked things for the boot of soul's, like here and mouths
the target of sound, in your vanity we see the seldom to bellow
providence is a meter of sincerity to kick the game alive, around
their terrors, the teeth of curiosity in a jaded clay
in the form of sultry messages to the nerve, the cope of turns in the eaves
simple, sordid, the frugal remains of liberty to say
the toes of shapes of things to come, with a snap of what deceives...
death, droll diversion or dependency
as simple as that, poise is meant for the asked for notion
to overwhelm the candor of silence in the hands of a wicked intimacy
made for forever, the future is a length of winds to take their portion...
a penny made a lip of caution for the anarchy of religion in their eyes...
of summation, the history of credence made the bastard of a chin with milk...
the play of curiosity for a crazed manhood, with a burn to his smothering, rhymes...
the day of instinct via the ear of virtuosity, is this anger the punch of ilk...?
question of the year of strangers to the bar, where is the time...?
in my stead, a comb of notoriety that sits for the proper, if not pepper due
still as steel, the waters come for the duty of callous where's, whens, and whines
would you act upon the shoulder of damnation, the stirring of a lands clue?
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About Even, If A House Notices The Horse
About Even, If A House Notices The Horse
