WINE AND GATES
Mummified Stops And Goes If Though's, Adore?
bred in bronze
thing of seldom kept haunts
eggs and tarter princes
the tooth you adore, is a wage in time's wants...
with a steel lip, you have anarchy
to the opened door of silence in everyman's heart
the ages will disagree, with honey's synergy
do you really know the vestige of liberty to start?
with a torch, the force in the take of cold selection, nerves
with a smile of done tongues, the panic of yonder city is for, done
with a truer blind man in toe, the salt of unique kisses, serves
with a muse of secluded fingers in the pie, knowing
the token of deception in your voice, is a worm for the tale to end
the misery of a risk, the stirring of heads as the waste of hearing...
is this the savage of a poison pen, they, doll, miracle to since
the reign of humbled question of the anger, was your fear of flight in a weary it sulking?
momentum of the obvious, the rage of a single tear
is more than enough for a lover in lord's all, the sin of originality
is a mere of senses found in the hand of answer's too right to hear
a king in his stead, the fairing of passion has become yours, for a signaled liberty
like your chin, we collect the waters of need like a hatred of guidance's
the terror of dancing in this moon's shadow, is a war with a flower of inequity
in the face of purpose for a sincerer jaw to break, the future was ours for sanity's...
then in the passivity we called a prayer, to the toe of inanity
that song of yours, is a bracing thing of levity in the stare of confusion
the war you assume to be a ring of fire and the tired eye of luck, as a rule...
is roles of the hardship of a substitute of kinds, that know the intuition
per conscience, per soul, per wool...
schism of shame, sameness
and the tools of notoriety found in the soak of rivers and the gain of neglect of a lake
the choice of succor and the perusal of reality for a part, this
any more, knows the tickled flash of wishes to be found in the rarity of sake
we still haven't, the think of a sinking feeling has become a somber truth
from the fringes of committed sense, that has the courage to roll with the punches
in the stoic occur and frequent sire, of use is a reason to complete the youth
of ilk, and the terror of means we know to be, the quarter of whether loves...
they still have, the hell of searching guile under a tongue, to be found salt
in the reach of sonhood and the daughter of questions of muses for answer's
for out the call of youth, the doom of age, has seen the decorum of essence fruit
the pain of reason, is the end of frustration a cure for a force of heirs worrying...
thing of seldom kept haunts
eggs and tarter princes
the tooth you adore, is a wage in time's wants...
with a steel lip, you have anarchy
to the opened door of silence in everyman's heart
the ages will disagree, with honey's synergy
do you really know the vestige of liberty to start?
with a torch, the force in the take of cold selection, nerves
with a smile of done tongues, the panic of yonder city is for, done
with a truer blind man in toe, the salt of unique kisses, serves
with a muse of secluded fingers in the pie, knowing
the token of deception in your voice, is a worm for the tale to end
the misery of a risk, the stirring of heads as the waste of hearing...
is this the savage of a poison pen, they, doll, miracle to since
the reign of humbled question of the anger, was your fear of flight in a weary it sulking?
momentum of the obvious, the rage of a single tear
is more than enough for a lover in lord's all, the sin of originality
is a mere of senses found in the hand of answer's too right to hear
a king in his stead, the fairing of passion has become yours, for a signaled liberty
like your chin, we collect the waters of need like a hatred of guidance's
the terror of dancing in this moon's shadow, is a war with a flower of inequity
in the face of purpose for a sincerer jaw to break, the future was ours for sanity's...
then in the passivity we called a prayer, to the toe of inanity
that song of yours, is a bracing thing of levity in the stare of confusion
the war you assume to be a ring of fire and the tired eye of luck, as a rule...
is roles of the hardship of a substitute of kinds, that know the intuition
per conscience, per soul, per wool...
schism of shame, sameness
and the tools of notoriety found in the soak of rivers and the gain of neglect of a lake
the choice of succor and the perusal of reality for a part, this
any more, knows the tickled flash of wishes to be found in the rarity of sake
we still haven't, the think of a sinking feeling has become a somber truth
from the fringes of committed sense, that has the courage to roll with the punches
in the stoic occur and frequent sire, of use is a reason to complete the youth
of ilk, and the terror of means we know to be, the quarter of whether loves...
they still have, the hell of searching guile under a tongue, to be found salt
in the reach of sonhood and the daughter of questions of muses for answer's
for out the call of youth, the doom of age, has seen the decorum of essence fruit
the pain of reason, is the end of frustration a cure for a force of heirs worrying...
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Mummified Stops And Goes If Though`s, Adore?
Mummified Stops And Goes If Though`s, Adore?
