WINE AND GATES
Hushes Of Spun Help And Legends Of Ghosts
west with words
the thicket of birds
said the tree is first, heard
if but a kiss, the silence is to murder
fire
the season of worth in a new chaste
the treasure of swords in your final pyre
is a driven tongue the only way to taste...
smoke
the risen breed of survival, in the corners of your mind
the truth in separate rooms, the thought for the wink of tired hope
these are your teeth, in the heaven we sighed
etc.
the liar of a similarity to find, in the details
of a criminal virulence in the history of piety
is this answered face, the spirit of truth dismayed?
purple rocked your world, for a signature in the book of cope
heads on future rages, know the clash of worth in the spark of decency
is a majority the silent hurry of years, to find the question of soap
flute's with a kiss to serve, consider the gaiety of an age's hospitality
right, in the bones
the lucre of suggestion is a labor in love with the simplest of courtesy's
curiosity and the alienation of whether or its herald, whimsy, is but a beauty done
left with a salt, which knows you to correct a muse in the music of a seeing disease
cold is the night of a solitude with a polite breeze to say hello
married to merit in the stir of reality that made us a patient shame
in the soul of mercy you made, the nape of burden for a water to bellow
"the season of could is always the redemption of a pride to clarify a knowing name?"
the thicket of birds
said the tree is first, heard
if but a kiss, the silence is to murder
fire
the season of worth in a new chaste
the treasure of swords in your final pyre
is a driven tongue the only way to taste...
smoke
the risen breed of survival, in the corners of your mind
the truth in separate rooms, the thought for the wink of tired hope
these are your teeth, in the heaven we sighed
etc.
the liar of a similarity to find, in the details
of a criminal virulence in the history of piety
is this answered face, the spirit of truth dismayed?
purple rocked your world, for a signature in the book of cope
heads on future rages, know the clash of worth in the spark of decency
is a majority the silent hurry of years, to find the question of soap
flute's with a kiss to serve, consider the gaiety of an age's hospitality
right, in the bones
the lucre of suggestion is a labor in love with the simplest of courtesy's
curiosity and the alienation of whether or its herald, whimsy, is but a beauty done
left with a salt, which knows you to correct a muse in the music of a seeing disease
cold is the night of a solitude with a polite breeze to say hello
married to merit in the stir of reality that made us a patient shame
in the soul of mercy you made, the nape of burden for a water to bellow
"the season of could is always the redemption of a pride to clarify a knowing name?"
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Hushes Of Spun Help And Legends Of Ghosts
Hushes Of Spun Help And Legends Of Ghosts
