WINE AND GATES
Does Moses Keep A Legend, For Job's Angel?
detritus, in this corner of shame's love
time with a tin nose, knows the facts
is your certainty for energies unseen, the heart of a covenant
in which, the tricks of furious pacts...
saliva, in knowing circles said the obvious
where the lime is a craving sod
is the savior of mercy in the places of dust
wishes of the way, prayers of the right to nod
lewd, the tart entry of sullen skip's and lip's of questions
in the play of light that made us answer's of guile's wisdom
the gift of night is more than a care for the ages, shins or shines
of merit show us much more than a call to fashion, it would the essence...
panic at the sight...
land in the risen behalf of a pie...
instinct to know, for a lurid might...
terror in the mirror of our hands, to sigh...
care?
for the fruit of understanding that makes us a virtue silent...
the push of substance is a treacle of the god given air
where even the sound of courage is a face migrant...
care
for the next in line, of a worthy knock on an adversary's door
and to a lip in love, with the message, the bottle, the future in stares
of a drive for the sorrow of causes seen, caution wasn't warmth...
care!
the toes you pronounce in concert with a fluttering breeze, survive
in the pride of conscience to the hip of images for lore, is a meet to fair
privacy of the more, in love with a naked insult of reason, a pace to give
cherub
implement of a rigid need, the told fate of crescendo's of the steamed people
know the like of a lovely sunshine in the work of days, a hill to love
for even the simplest of reasons, if you want to come to this, ever for a sleep
time with a tin nose, knows the facts
is your certainty for energies unseen, the heart of a covenant
in which, the tricks of furious pacts...
saliva, in knowing circles said the obvious
where the lime is a craving sod
is the savior of mercy in the places of dust
wishes of the way, prayers of the right to nod
lewd, the tart entry of sullen skip's and lip's of questions
in the play of light that made us answer's of guile's wisdom
the gift of night is more than a care for the ages, shins or shines
of merit show us much more than a call to fashion, it would the essence...
panic at the sight...
land in the risen behalf of a pie...
instinct to know, for a lurid might...
terror in the mirror of our hands, to sigh...
care?
for the fruit of understanding that makes us a virtue silent...
the push of substance is a treacle of the god given air
where even the sound of courage is a face migrant...
care
for the next in line, of a worthy knock on an adversary's door
and to a lip in love, with the message, the bottle, the future in stares
of a drive for the sorrow of causes seen, caution wasn't warmth...
care!
the toes you pronounce in concert with a fluttering breeze, survive
in the pride of conscience to the hip of images for lore, is a meet to fair
privacy of the more, in love with a naked insult of reason, a pace to give
cherub
implement of a rigid need, the told fate of crescendo's of the steamed people
know the like of a lovely sunshine in the work of days, a hill to love
for even the simplest of reasons, if you want to come to this, ever for a sleep
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Does Moses Keep A Legend, For Job`s Angel?
Does Moses Keep A Legend, For Job`s Angel?
