WINE AND GATES
Boats That Pick Fruit Aren't Strange Hello's?
albumen in the ashtray
sea the judge of poise to a fly, and the frog?
think fear, and you have the tail by the tear
and a place to call cigarettes home, for the nog
lords of thumbs in the vanity of poorer heads to count
the wage earned is more than a dinner date, form the strength
of lips to serve the worth of a Beulah, the signs of a sound
is the measure of mystery in the pause of length...?
who cares...?!
so do we all, the fashion of neatly dressed Sundays, not Mondays
a headache of too much nicotine, is to play the court of Tuesday
and pants were the topic of much dissent, but the role of idiom showed the clay
does a day long sucker show us all to a little stone of happy faces thoroughly?
so does the kid, the father, the mortal retains of mothers and a Friday
Satan here is an awful date to keep, the terror of kisses on the ask of beauty
and so the daughter of pardons and the son of causes toward a life to sign away
devil and the deep blue seen
the road to your justice is a comparable, if not instant lip of changing seasons
the why is left to history to note a miracle in the bitter teeth of kings
do you have a bird in your nights clue and the sunny day of persons of strange reasons?
Like the orange juice you call a home, the cleaner the toenail, the greater the nation
like the vanilla of suggestion in the eaves of a silent crest of cope, the ward
of solutions in the chocolate of sublime thoughts for the marriage of indignation
is a strawberry your hope, the fury of solemn cares is a way with the idea terror
wasted by degrees, three sheets of the wind...?
haven't we kept a battle of urges at bay for a somber reason of intuition?
the clues are in the joy we found, for a honor of kind since
persuasion...
sea the judge of poise to a fly, and the frog?
think fear, and you have the tail by the tear
and a place to call cigarettes home, for the nog
lords of thumbs in the vanity of poorer heads to count
the wage earned is more than a dinner date, form the strength
of lips to serve the worth of a Beulah, the signs of a sound
is the measure of mystery in the pause of length...?
who cares...?!
so do we all, the fashion of neatly dressed Sundays, not Mondays
a headache of too much nicotine, is to play the court of Tuesday
and pants were the topic of much dissent, but the role of idiom showed the clay
does a day long sucker show us all to a little stone of happy faces thoroughly?
so does the kid, the father, the mortal retains of mothers and a Friday
Satan here is an awful date to keep, the terror of kisses on the ask of beauty
and so the daughter of pardons and the son of causes toward a life to sign away
devil and the deep blue seen
the road to your justice is a comparable, if not instant lip of changing seasons
the why is left to history to note a miracle in the bitter teeth of kings
do you have a bird in your nights clue and the sunny day of persons of strange reasons?
Like the orange juice you call a home, the cleaner the toenail, the greater the nation
like the vanilla of suggestion in the eaves of a silent crest of cope, the ward
of solutions in the chocolate of sublime thoughts for the marriage of indignation
is a strawberry your hope, the fury of solemn cares is a way with the idea terror
wasted by degrees, three sheets of the wind...?
haven't we kept a battle of urges at bay for a somber reason of intuition?
the clues are in the joy we found, for a honor of kind since
persuasion...
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Boats That Pick Fruit Aren`t Strange Hello`s?
Boats That Pick Fruit Aren`t Strange Hello`s?
