WINE AND GATES
Antipose And Parting Owes, To A Ship Of...
yet, yearn, years
isn't with expound, the future in the round
many ways with a past, if not tears
in the hour of can, these eyes see the dream allowed
candor, at the price of vintage known
the course of sincerity to keep, awful to love
where's of what is a moment to moment mire of owe
the sense of due, the oft of condition for does
my name is sweet, if not suicide
the take of deem in the stir of angels to come, the role
of vestiges of need, in the nose of anxiety, a fitting why
is my inheritance for a day, and then a night of all to extol
shame has its root here, the myriad liberties entailed by lore
the still abstract thought of fury come, to these for a kind
where even the stoic reprise of a worth is but a kiss of anger to war
the place of neglect and the here after exact myth of demands, for a rhyme
wish upon such a star, and think the world a brighter place for it?
youth is but a thought of around away, where the child
is but a soldier of fancy, if not instancy of mete for whit's
made somehow beautiful by the kindred of fear that we know any how and wild
shadows of fell, and by the stretch of tongue we foretell
hell of sins of the fate we kept as a longevity to the problem
of virtue and the vote of freedom in the relinquishing sides of a bell
sordid? the very eyes of poorer times in my hand to quell, for a days whim
isn't with expound, the future in the round
many ways with a past, if not tears
in the hour of can, these eyes see the dream allowed
candor, at the price of vintage known
the course of sincerity to keep, awful to love
where's of what is a moment to moment mire of owe
the sense of due, the oft of condition for does
my name is sweet, if not suicide
the take of deem in the stir of angels to come, the role
of vestiges of need, in the nose of anxiety, a fitting why
is my inheritance for a day, and then a night of all to extol
shame has its root here, the myriad liberties entailed by lore
the still abstract thought of fury come, to these for a kind
where even the stoic reprise of a worth is but a kiss of anger to war
the place of neglect and the here after exact myth of demands, for a rhyme
wish upon such a star, and think the world a brighter place for it?
youth is but a thought of around away, where the child
is but a soldier of fancy, if not instancy of mete for whit's
made somehow beautiful by the kindred of fear that we know any how and wild
shadows of fell, and by the stretch of tongue we foretell
hell of sins of the fate we kept as a longevity to the problem
of virtue and the vote of freedom in the relinquishing sides of a bell
sordid? the very eyes of poorer times in my hand to quell, for a days whim
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Antipose And Parting Owes, To A Ship Of...
Antipose And Parting Owes, To A Ship Of...
