WINE AND GATES
The Innocent May Eat, The Angry Mere Earned Dust
hello, identity
true, the scare of a unity
in these hands, the larger than life epitomy
for your knee, the care of impunity
care for me in the sore days of winks
the shape of things to endure
is a paradise the war with what stinks?
the ages of realm, the still thriving flower, of weird...
the spoil with the loyal, the marriage of got
the ignored speed of cousins and the legend of arm?
in the head of worlds away from, us, the think of not
is ours for a liberty in the stir of anger, normal
the talking of remorse in the hands of another
the wagon with the wheel, for a salty presumption and its wander
the kind of a king for the rest of the ides of other
the life we souled for the cant of seeking the eyes of wonder?
that rhymed, didn't it?
maybe the calling world is a measure of sincerity
for the strange and sorry eyes of misery, where the bitter can with whit's
of the dole in your mind for a passage to climbs of warmth, the oddity...
in the lips of sudden reality, to vouch for a courage
the thing of decisions and the might with a swifter kiss
is but a wouldn't in the share of tradition, to notice the legend
isn't the reign of any and all, the same day as a need in the lift...
of the wind
in the heart for a deem of some where better
the conscience we know, for the rest of ourselves, and the bones of sin
is love a head of questions for the meager thoughts of another, the meant other...
true, the scare of a unity
in these hands, the larger than life epitomy
for your knee, the care of impunity
care for me in the sore days of winks
the shape of things to endure
is a paradise the war with what stinks?
the ages of realm, the still thriving flower, of weird...
the spoil with the loyal, the marriage of got
the ignored speed of cousins and the legend of arm?
in the head of worlds away from, us, the think of not
is ours for a liberty in the stir of anger, normal
the talking of remorse in the hands of another
the wagon with the wheel, for a salty presumption and its wander
the kind of a king for the rest of the ides of other
the life we souled for the cant of seeking the eyes of wonder?
that rhymed, didn't it?
maybe the calling world is a measure of sincerity
for the strange and sorry eyes of misery, where the bitter can with whit's
of the dole in your mind for a passage to climbs of warmth, the oddity...
in the lips of sudden reality, to vouch for a courage
the thing of decisions and the might with a swifter kiss
is but a wouldn't in the share of tradition, to notice the legend
isn't the reign of any and all, the same day as a need in the lift...
of the wind
in the heart for a deem of some where better
the conscience we know, for the rest of ourselves, and the bones of sin
is love a head of questions for the meager thoughts of another, the meant other...
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The Innocent May Eat, The Angry Mere Earned Dust
The Innocent May Eat, The Angry Mere Earned Dust
