WINE AND GATES
Stare Of Tougher Hell, He'll Omit Tongues?
tales from the chipped...
honest, birds of the with
them still irony's of doors and the on
the hour of sugar for a bastion to bless
witness the life of a sour chord, in the nose of dim reason
where the moment of souls, is but a class of judgment
for the stir of echoes is your heart, in season
the stroke of gambled voice and the sampled choice, of issued generations
shame in the form of the wind, to complete and heed
the stare of suggestion, for a silver town's hour, that knew the scope of shade
if a lips torrid, the thorough for the still of genius, in the mete
of a bread with a fish, know the dread it took, to have a song to wade and witness...?
oil in the sit, the vitamin of survival for a savior's link
of simplicity and the hour of spirit to hear it
the food of the future, the talc with the clock of grace, in the ink
for a since of charity, that says the chemistry of a new hint of withered...
your horse, my whore
lord of wyvern's or a mole in the slight
we keep the season of chance, for a strange way we know the worth
in a fruit of conscience, that has the spill of blindness in an angry stride
tale of the knowing glow, of surreality?
failure of flux and the smell of should in the stomach of natures general alacrity?
persuasion of dust to give the knock of cool eyes to the need, of a ruing city?
need with a sincere rage show the world a duty in the anima of that reality...
patient with an angry child to devour your fist
replaced with a candle of smooth care, in the face of dementia that appoints
the nature of significance of cold steel to wealth, to the neglect of honor too great to list
the role of a nursed deed, in the dragonish voice of nearer sin, this enjoyed...
honest, birds of the with
them still irony's of doors and the on
the hour of sugar for a bastion to bless
witness the life of a sour chord, in the nose of dim reason
where the moment of souls, is but a class of judgment
for the stir of echoes is your heart, in season
the stroke of gambled voice and the sampled choice, of issued generations
shame in the form of the wind, to complete and heed
the stare of suggestion, for a silver town's hour, that knew the scope of shade
if a lips torrid, the thorough for the still of genius, in the mete
of a bread with a fish, know the dread it took, to have a song to wade and witness...?
oil in the sit, the vitamin of survival for a savior's link
of simplicity and the hour of spirit to hear it
the food of the future, the talc with the clock of grace, in the ink
for a since of charity, that says the chemistry of a new hint of withered...
your horse, my whore
lord of wyvern's or a mole in the slight
we keep the season of chance, for a strange way we know the worth
in a fruit of conscience, that has the spill of blindness in an angry stride
tale of the knowing glow, of surreality?
failure of flux and the smell of should in the stomach of natures general alacrity?
persuasion of dust to give the knock of cool eyes to the need, of a ruing city?
need with a sincere rage show the world a duty in the anima of that reality...
patient with an angry child to devour your fist
replaced with a candle of smooth care, in the face of dementia that appoints
the nature of significance of cold steel to wealth, to the neglect of honor too great to list
the role of a nursed deed, in the dragonish voice of nearer sin, this enjoyed...
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Stare Of Tougher Hell, He`ll Omit Tongues?
Stare Of Tougher Hell, He`ll Omit Tongues?
