WINE AND GATES
Why Does It Matter, The Tongue Of Voice?
curious fates of the senses
to labor in the field of havoc, the rage
of reason to find the land all a suspense
the curtness of a thumb in love, with the strange
grace be a coward, to find with a fulfilled torch
Christian mores are for the sweat of a swordsman, the penny of holocausts...
epitomy's of jealousy know the rhyme of skin, like a savior or worse
angry days with a God of semblances is an ordeal in the vision of lots
a piece of pie, from the north
the laughter you find, the liberty you bathe in
is a place of honor, the finger of dominion in a heart to hunt, the birth
of many for the savagery of the few, we collect the sin
a breeze to linger, in the west
a soul with his or her own mind in toe, the future of clever where's
is this issue of denial, the metal to live up to the family of bests?
the conscience of light, to simplify the order of chaos as it were's?
a seat at a table, in the east
the work of harmony to have the bird of nuance, in the eaves of sweetness
we are here to stare, upon the naked assurance of uniqueness to form, as if yeast
for the right to the patience of others for a guarded sincerity to have, to bless
a thought for salt, a think for the drink, in the south
with a pressure in fact and deed, to believe in the condition of men
is the relationship of succor for a moment, then the flight of since proud
the pact of ushering in the seasons, is a mere of decision to find for then
who or what is responsible...
when is a toe of concern to be the care of insatiability?
the curious voice of insanity to fend off, the lift of hell
to a higher plain, via the course of time that has, the affability...
all in the kiss of choice
the vastness of a legend of damnation in the paces we adore, the eyes of force
does this shoe, this weary eyed pet, and the whistle of a weathered voice
have the faith of dependency for a ghost, or the image of fury in the works?
to labor in the field of havoc, the rage
of reason to find the land all a suspense
the curtness of a thumb in love, with the strange
grace be a coward, to find with a fulfilled torch
Christian mores are for the sweat of a swordsman, the penny of holocausts...
epitomy's of jealousy know the rhyme of skin, like a savior or worse
angry days with a God of semblances is an ordeal in the vision of lots
a piece of pie, from the north
the laughter you find, the liberty you bathe in
is a place of honor, the finger of dominion in a heart to hunt, the birth
of many for the savagery of the few, we collect the sin
a breeze to linger, in the west
a soul with his or her own mind in toe, the future of clever where's
is this issue of denial, the metal to live up to the family of bests?
the conscience of light, to simplify the order of chaos as it were's?
a seat at a table, in the east
the work of harmony to have the bird of nuance, in the eaves of sweetness
we are here to stare, upon the naked assurance of uniqueness to form, as if yeast
for the right to the patience of others for a guarded sincerity to have, to bless
a thought for salt, a think for the drink, in the south
with a pressure in fact and deed, to believe in the condition of men
is the relationship of succor for a moment, then the flight of since proud
the pact of ushering in the seasons, is a mere of decision to find for then
who or what is responsible...
when is a toe of concern to be the care of insatiability?
the curious voice of insanity to fend off, the lift of hell
to a higher plain, via the course of time that has, the affability...
all in the kiss of choice
the vastness of a legend of damnation in the paces we adore, the eyes of force
does this shoe, this weary eyed pet, and the whistle of a weathered voice
have the faith of dependency for a ghost, or the image of fury in the works?
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Why Does It Matter, The Tongue Of Voice?
Why Does It Matter, The Tongue Of Voice?
