WINE AND GATES
Tales Of Symphony's At The Ends Of The Earth
ten of spades, magnificent and made
thought in more than water, the still of violence
found for a sour if not sorrow, of cold opinion to wade
the salt between your toes and fingers, the majority of sickness ...
promises to a child and its pet
the waiting and the are of honored treasures in the sky
to liberate a few of worth, birds of limits
to the kisses of urges and the all of domain to life?
where to art, the furor of singing and the hung man in the mirror
for the sense of an adroit fruit of composed, littleness
the price of victory, simply free the truth from the means of another, via fear ...?
we are the cope of seclusion made true and still, the neglect of a shadow to guess ...
the tarry of unity in our presumption and the act of dread to find, the stone
rolled by with a hair of existence, and the all of a knowing deed of consciences
made firm by the shared idea of common since, to the ends of the world and back again
the power to finalize the poor, to extradite the rich and know minds for sexes prescience's
love and the tone of your voice
the wake of a keeping silk and the afterword of shame in a charisma foretold
by the least, of demand and the ark of timidity before you, choice
was a herald of guile to know here long before the strength of many had a pace to hold
naked, with oil for an inheritance of golden sign's
the chance of sincerity for a driven need in the virginity, of collusion's now
the tongue of silence still, the tower of response to a dried eye of simplicity and why
for a sound in heaven, that has the show of inclusion we accept for a time, in the how
pasts, fasts and the caste
of chosen mine, and the shape of things to come, sublime
work in the miles until an eye is found, to forward blessings and haste
here in the same, to remember your name for one, two of salt, thrice to live again ...
thought in more than water, the still of violence
found for a sour if not sorrow, of cold opinion to wade
the salt between your toes and fingers, the majority of sickness ...
promises to a child and its pet
the waiting and the are of honored treasures in the sky
to liberate a few of worth, birds of limits
to the kisses of urges and the all of domain to life?
where to art, the furor of singing and the hung man in the mirror
for the sense of an adroit fruit of composed, littleness
the price of victory, simply free the truth from the means of another, via fear ...?
we are the cope of seclusion made true and still, the neglect of a shadow to guess ...
the tarry of unity in our presumption and the act of dread to find, the stone
rolled by with a hair of existence, and the all of a knowing deed of consciences
made firm by the shared idea of common since, to the ends of the world and back again
the power to finalize the poor, to extradite the rich and know minds for sexes prescience's
love and the tone of your voice
the wake of a keeping silk and the afterword of shame in a charisma foretold
by the least, of demand and the ark of timidity before you, choice
was a herald of guile to know here long before the strength of many had a pace to hold
naked, with oil for an inheritance of golden sign's
the chance of sincerity for a driven need in the virginity, of collusion's now
the tongue of silence still, the tower of response to a dried eye of simplicity and why
for a sound in heaven, that has the show of inclusion we accept for a time, in the how
pasts, fasts and the caste
of chosen mine, and the shape of things to come, sublime
work in the miles until an eye is found, to forward blessings and haste
here in the same, to remember your name for one, two of salt, thrice to live again ...
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Tales Of Symphony`s At The Ends Of The Earth
Tales Of Symphony`s At The Ends Of The Earth
