WINE AND GATES
Siempre Fi, Not Emperial Finks...
teeth of an angel
where the brooking salt, is a history to find
the land or the laud of charisma in the delve, of a serious hell
is the same of a game, the curiosity to survey the kind
prepare a soft eye for me
the toes of creation via acts of solidarity
are the page of human like and dissuasion for out anarchy
with the love of an authority in judges, pomposity
my name is found in the service to an ideal
the lucre we had, for the part of palls and the strictness of all's
is but a consideration of facts known to be a wind to heal
the part of some's in the nerves of tears, we accredit the lapse of what calls
your wishes in the gray of time
the blessing of ides greater, for the sense in the can of trying
the wind is to be a hallowed ear, let with the mouth of a silence
until succor is a void taste in the limelight of sorts that are keeping
simple news for a simple head above waters of chance
the lucre you suppose and the need of those
is but a wonder of sincerity to find for a burden in cans
these shoes are for the work of a question to pose
should I eat that cookie?
is a made bed the rhythm of the day's doldrum?
the lapse of suggestion to find, will I seek the news of an energy?
is this kiss of requiem, the future for a day in the hands of loving?
yonder cheese, with a purpose beyond the peas
in the hat of a sate, is a water to fate
can with the silence, to poor a future into the delirium of seas
we are the miracle of ought, the oddity of a half chewed shade
where the brooking salt, is a history to find
the land or the laud of charisma in the delve, of a serious hell
is the same of a game, the curiosity to survey the kind
prepare a soft eye for me
the toes of creation via acts of solidarity
are the page of human like and dissuasion for out anarchy
with the love of an authority in judges, pomposity
my name is found in the service to an ideal
the lucre we had, for the part of palls and the strictness of all's
is but a consideration of facts known to be a wind to heal
the part of some's in the nerves of tears, we accredit the lapse of what calls
your wishes in the gray of time
the blessing of ides greater, for the sense in the can of trying
the wind is to be a hallowed ear, let with the mouth of a silence
until succor is a void taste in the limelight of sorts that are keeping
simple news for a simple head above waters of chance
the lucre you suppose and the need of those
is but a wonder of sincerity to find for a burden in cans
these shoes are for the work of a question to pose
should I eat that cookie?
is a made bed the rhythm of the day's doldrum?
the lapse of suggestion to find, will I seek the news of an energy?
is this kiss of requiem, the future for a day in the hands of loving?
yonder cheese, with a purpose beyond the peas
in the hat of a sate, is a water to fate
can with the silence, to poor a future into the delirium of seas
we are the miracle of ought, the oddity of a half chewed shade
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Siempre Fi, Not Emperial Finks...
Siempre Fi, Not Emperial Finks...
