WINE AND GATES
More Than Money, Thought For A Friend...
paces
if not passion in the air
for a prayer in the form of places
of condition for the imagination of senses, found fair
shape up, shame
the skip of your kiss, in the skills of fish and bread
these teeth of sincere if any, thing of liberty to know aim
is but a salt of sakes, is found in the guise of choices ahead
still the some
of a clash in the stir of anywhere made
the blue beyond green, the brown to know black as a hum
then in the sitting more, is a labor found, for a which said
cold, collusion if care in the stares
of simplicity, the soul of reiteration of could, for you
to know a step forward, into the blazing scope of where's
the since of a season of means, capable of who
shy
the truth in the sameness of severity to be seen, and proved
for a simpler kind of share, even and why
the call of ancient doors on the moment, but little had's, of youth
denye
the cure of sigh's and the excuse of wishes made in the pity
to know a crass surge of cope, in the bastion of nothing sly
we are the people of ought, in the remains of a new day of worlds litany
if not passion in the air
for a prayer in the form of places
of condition for the imagination of senses, found fair
shape up, shame
the skip of your kiss, in the skills of fish and bread
these teeth of sincere if any, thing of liberty to know aim
is but a salt of sakes, is found in the guise of choices ahead
still the some
of a clash in the stir of anywhere made
the blue beyond green, the brown to know black as a hum
then in the sitting more, is a labor found, for a which said
cold, collusion if care in the stares
of simplicity, the soul of reiteration of could, for you
to know a step forward, into the blazing scope of where's
the since of a season of means, capable of who
shy
the truth in the sameness of severity to be seen, and proved
for a simpler kind of share, even and why
the call of ancient doors on the moment, but little had's, of youth
denye
the cure of sigh's and the excuse of wishes made in the pity
to know a crass surge of cope, in the bastion of nothing sly
we are the people of ought, in the remains of a new day of worlds litany
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More Than Money, Thought For A Friend...
More Than Money, Thought For A Friend...
