WINE AND GATES
Does God Give Apples To War With Tickles?
risks of the angels
and a heir of silence anew, for out the muses of now
in the discipline of shadow of a wiser and little
thought for sense in the misery of a cold power
worth the joke on the sun
where a hate is but a glare at a grace of worlds...
smell my water baby, in halting seclusion of wed lips and tongue
hunt or hunger for another, kisses are a wage of either and us, golds
habits of the centuries, in the folds of a crasser mine
if to limits, and the asking of vitamins that souled the candor
of a sublime talk with a god of fascination and the fortitude of kinds
anti to phantoms, and hosts of ghosts away, we see your knee at warmth
liberty at the cost of a shadow on the plane, we call them like we mean it
with a gently made sadness for the rest of history
in the shame of another, to quietly give the sincerity of voice, for a spite
is this salty shape of things to come, a corner of reality for the hoary
isn't your name a grace before the might of a solace of choice?
in the west of all and the bearer of fallen lives of chance, is this call to hair an egg?
as the law of loves assumptions know, in the smile of reasons are you a friend of owes?
if to like the sense in a hand held for shade in the place of pain, if a breed of time to let?
and this actually makes sense to you?
did, you just bite me on the ass one night, and fall in love?
smell my dread, things that impress you, have a clue
at what's going on with mine, and the anger of a real stone in my does
like a color of a reason in your eyes, I know to whisper at a rainbow
in the name of a lord of time and keep, that is your friend to call upon sorrow
those pied orders of challenges and the may of a knowing the low
is a terrified master of wondering and wandering in the sound of a happier stare to own?
and a heir of silence anew, for out the muses of now
in the discipline of shadow of a wiser and little
thought for sense in the misery of a cold power
worth the joke on the sun
where a hate is but a glare at a grace of worlds...
smell my water baby, in halting seclusion of wed lips and tongue
hunt or hunger for another, kisses are a wage of either and us, golds
habits of the centuries, in the folds of a crasser mine
if to limits, and the asking of vitamins that souled the candor
of a sublime talk with a god of fascination and the fortitude of kinds
anti to phantoms, and hosts of ghosts away, we see your knee at warmth
liberty at the cost of a shadow on the plane, we call them like we mean it
with a gently made sadness for the rest of history
in the shame of another, to quietly give the sincerity of voice, for a spite
is this salty shape of things to come, a corner of reality for the hoary
isn't your name a grace before the might of a solace of choice?
in the west of all and the bearer of fallen lives of chance, is this call to hair an egg?
as the law of loves assumptions know, in the smile of reasons are you a friend of owes?
if to like the sense in a hand held for shade in the place of pain, if a breed of time to let?
and this actually makes sense to you?
did, you just bite me on the ass one night, and fall in love?
smell my dread, things that impress you, have a clue
at what's going on with mine, and the anger of a real stone in my does
like a color of a reason in your eyes, I know to whisper at a rainbow
in the name of a lord of time and keep, that is your friend to call upon sorrow
those pied orders of challenges and the may of a knowing the low
is a terrified master of wondering and wandering in the sound of a happier stare to own?
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Does God Give Apples To War With Tickles?
Does God Give Apples To War With Tickles?