WINE AND GATES
Found Prayer In The Arms Of Pain, Semblance
gift of the dark
in here is a lam, the thought of hot damn
in the stead of superior ideas, the logic to hark
to simplicity be a king, here to show the same
walls and bells of fell repute
the terror of a situated city on your lip, the stir of any
ide to fight, the care of judges and bolt in the blue
we know the nary of done weal, the ache of many
rolls and sordid tongues to make a lip a place of notice
the irony of seeing nothing, is a gain of processes
unseen, with a memory for each silent thumb of a changing joy, lest we entice
the virtue of sincerity to find, the applied domain of another bless
certainly the gift of ages, one would think after a moment of clarity and doubt
the spill of liberty into a cadence of shame, and due truth
the wards of unity in our hearts, know the call of a sense by the route
according to the dilemma of souls to come, is this youth?
shared with a friend, the still of knowing is at ends
faired with a morsel of future content, the acumen of sin is with a heed
cared for in the annul of excitement as a glowing wind to be heard, the still of ahem
paired with the times for a subtler reliance, religion says it may be seed
closing an argument about the sickness of history, and its honor to console
the place of unction and the urge of calamity to convene, is a hap to address the sigh's
of valor in the name of more than a clash of opportunity's, none but the levity of whole
made a fury of possibility beyond the grasp of death, where we know the patience of lies
in here is a lam, the thought of hot damn
in the stead of superior ideas, the logic to hark
to simplicity be a king, here to show the same
walls and bells of fell repute
the terror of a situated city on your lip, the stir of any
ide to fight, the care of judges and bolt in the blue
we know the nary of done weal, the ache of many
rolls and sordid tongues to make a lip a place of notice
the irony of seeing nothing, is a gain of processes
unseen, with a memory for each silent thumb of a changing joy, lest we entice
the virtue of sincerity to find, the applied domain of another bless
certainly the gift of ages, one would think after a moment of clarity and doubt
the spill of liberty into a cadence of shame, and due truth
the wards of unity in our hearts, know the call of a sense by the route
according to the dilemma of souls to come, is this youth?
shared with a friend, the still of knowing is at ends
faired with a morsel of future content, the acumen of sin is with a heed
cared for in the annul of excitement as a glowing wind to be heard, the still of ahem
paired with the times for a subtler reliance, religion says it may be seed
closing an argument about the sickness of history, and its honor to console
the place of unction and the urge of calamity to convene, is a hap to address the sigh's
of valor in the name of more than a clash of opportunity's, none but the levity of whole
made a fury of possibility beyond the grasp of death, where we know the patience of lies
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Found Prayer In The Arms Of Pain, Semblance
Found Prayer In The Arms Of Pain, Semblance
