WINE AND GATES
Ample Duty In The Lands, For Psyche To Be
time in verse
the cant you'd adore, if not show the food of during
the lapse of condition in the soreness of a choice, worse
than the cold count of courage in our court, weirding
like safety to a humbler number, the talk of brief since
is for the nature of kingdom come, to a waiting will
of water and the skip of silence that is adjusted for a sense
of culture in the certain live, to give an our of words stilled
see the drive of men in the corner's of a house of shame
the wards of controlled smiles and the kill of deem to befriend
the needs of a glass of when, if not wind in the breed of aim
this what ... is about to end...?
heathen, the nature of kindness in the spurilous way we save a kin
the justice of consciences of virtue for any thing moving, will
with a cloud of vexation finally a proper song, try the alum
your sun shine, and my taste in stale moons, is a world onto itself
the point so far, in the temple of judgment and the remains of consideration
is a laughter of keys and the seed of passion in trouble
if not the lucre of sincerity to find, for a question that comes, to tribulation
for a salt, if not the sameness of a fault in the blessing of hell...
evil, evil, evil
the taste of dim need in the nature of cope and the ache of solutions for a simple share
in the past, if not the future of sigh's and drives, the right to a bell
in the soul, of vindication is a legend of honor for the patience we know, paradise
the cant you'd adore, if not show the food of during
the lapse of condition in the soreness of a choice, worse
than the cold count of courage in our court, weirding
like safety to a humbler number, the talk of brief since
is for the nature of kingdom come, to a waiting will
of water and the skip of silence that is adjusted for a sense
of culture in the certain live, to give an our of words stilled
see the drive of men in the corner's of a house of shame
the wards of controlled smiles and the kill of deem to befriend
the needs of a glass of when, if not wind in the breed of aim
this what ... is about to end...?
heathen, the nature of kindness in the spurilous way we save a kin
the justice of consciences of virtue for any thing moving, will
with a cloud of vexation finally a proper song, try the alum
your sun shine, and my taste in stale moons, is a world onto itself
the point so far, in the temple of judgment and the remains of consideration
is a laughter of keys and the seed of passion in trouble
if not the lucre of sincerity to find, for a question that comes, to tribulation
for a salt, if not the sameness of a fault in the blessing of hell...
evil, evil, evil
the taste of dim need in the nature of cope and the ache of solutions for a simple share
in the past, if not the future of sigh's and drives, the right to a bell
in the soul, of vindication is a legend of honor for the patience we know, paradise
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Ample Duty In The Lands, For Psyche To Be
Ample Duty In The Lands, For Psyche To Be
