WINE AND GATES

Eaves In Beautiful Oil Like Evil Wonders ... ?

sides of tongue
from a berry and the unity In a comb
the wave in the future is all, and yours, a hardship among
the pretty eyes you offered though, are for the salt in the run

wages of sordid names in your step
the laughing of notorious smiles for a nation that never quit
but found the note of curiosity for a saner lip
the war at our fingertips?! the child of acumen in service to, despite

we are the forth, larger than life to a simplified joy
the tart entry of sense into the arena of fathering the method...
the mother of invention of a single voice to know, to quell the coy
per the sides of justice, we said were the liberty in the sudden

pride for a strange twist of tea in the pecking order that was the thief in bed?
where have you been, we killed the door, the thicket and the bolt in the blue...
they know the opposite, for a than in the gifts of sugar, we said:
hate yourself, for the knock of urgency that came, the quiet is for those that could

peculiar news with no good end?
your guess is as good as sublime, the tale in the fishes arse, bread and eternity
the power to simply give the truth a faster try than you knew not, by which we sinned
in the loft of a knowing nose, where have all the good daisy's gone, subtlety...

in the sigh's of another, the toes of uncertainty
if the kernel, of sour judges in the eyes of benign worth have a puberty
this is the season of reason, if not religion, the cope of passion in the duty
dim days ahead? the power to open ones mind to the very essence of consciences liberty

by the time, the signs of future come
the walls to give, and the tall orders of those maligned into insanity's grasp, a fist of love
where the tone of voice you seek is but a coin of demonstration, the show of sates and was...
here is your island, the tale of victory over the climate of dismal lives in the world of does

huge was the day it was born
little to poise, it was given the death, the reign of hunger
they are the culprit, the soil under the bridge to warn
for a made bed in the annul of cope, where even the silence of lambs is for the wan, there


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Eaves In Beautiful Oil Like Evil Wonders ... ?

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