WINE AND GATES
Dear John, Dead Joy, Door Of Heroines?
question to a focused heirloom
the tooth you play with, in the mirror of gold
thinking the tarter reason of virtue, is this grace a room
for antipathy to deliver a briefer assumption of the bold
tastes of far away places
hats for the shared insult of catch
of throat in the spill of miles to come, for mays
thinking the tool of a bright future, we know the wrath...
of a darker soul than the nature given
this is the luck of logic to form, the persistence of a wind at clash
the misery in the scowl of a just man, the knock of curses that religion
isn't the finger of society our reason for a sincerity to give the last?
terror is a void treasure if you collect an eye for seclusion
to this end, we know the bout of sorrow like the back of our lands
this isn't the neglect of savior or their intimation
of sand, as a heroine of starving need, in the shape of antique limit's
heroine's of culture for you, the neither of cope, the sour jaw of reality
of a shaping seed in the same, if the game of urges or the should of heard's
thin is a pride, waste is a sly, hungry was the toil of excellency
of the world to make its first place for a curiosity of what has a life in words
try
the knuckle of simplicity, for an answer of domain, the things of wretched it?
then to love, the marriage of charisma to a sweeter slice of pie
candor for the stake of youth? we are the more in the stir of whit
your tomorrow, my now of shadows of future
in the courage it took to know, the new potential of lows and highs
we see your myth of compriseal as a penny to worlds
smoldering with a contagion of powers in the few, this way of snide...
when
the teeth of jealousy know a completion of hope
here is a raging thought of a place in the sun
as the wind grooms a freer time for the don't, the lover of a meagerer rope
breath
in your callous vote to deliver the bite of candidness
them, the truth in a place of dance and the capability of a house of regret
sweet was the cold hour of silence in your ear, the hell of a nose to bless
the tooth you play with, in the mirror of gold
thinking the tarter reason of virtue, is this grace a room
for antipathy to deliver a briefer assumption of the bold
tastes of far away places
hats for the shared insult of catch
of throat in the spill of miles to come, for mays
thinking the tool of a bright future, we know the wrath...
of a darker soul than the nature given
this is the luck of logic to form, the persistence of a wind at clash
the misery in the scowl of a just man, the knock of curses that religion
isn't the finger of society our reason for a sincerity to give the last?
terror is a void treasure if you collect an eye for seclusion
to this end, we know the bout of sorrow like the back of our lands
this isn't the neglect of savior or their intimation
of sand, as a heroine of starving need, in the shape of antique limit's
heroine's of culture for you, the neither of cope, the sour jaw of reality
of a shaping seed in the same, if the game of urges or the should of heard's
thin is a pride, waste is a sly, hungry was the toil of excellency
of the world to make its first place for a curiosity of what has a life in words
try
the knuckle of simplicity, for an answer of domain, the things of wretched it?
then to love, the marriage of charisma to a sweeter slice of pie
candor for the stake of youth? we are the more in the stir of whit
your tomorrow, my now of shadows of future
in the courage it took to know, the new potential of lows and highs
we see your myth of compriseal as a penny to worlds
smoldering with a contagion of powers in the few, this way of snide...
when
the teeth of jealousy know a completion of hope
here is a raging thought of a place in the sun
as the wind grooms a freer time for the don't, the lover of a meagerer rope
breath
in your callous vote to deliver the bite of candidness
them, the truth in a place of dance and the capability of a house of regret
sweet was the cold hour of silence in your ear, the hell of a nose to bless
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Dear John, Dead Joy, Door Of Heroines?
Dear John, Dead Joy, Door Of Heroines?
