WINE AND GATES
Brows Or Grows, The Tale Of A Promise...
paste
in the habit of cold futures, if to rend
the walk of superiority we acknowledge in a fury, them and haste
to whether of a sovereignty for a curse to wish, upon a climb
society to form, in our mission before the lore
if to will in the substance of a hill
in the accord of silence if the reach of soul's were
the place of virtue in your prayers, to welling days to fulfill
required with the smoldering irony of protest of jewry, firey
immediate in the voice of churched vision, the all of questions among the salt
of a requited vindication if to recollect in the duty of reasons
if to concern, the all of your habit of vengeance is a more to see, the agony of authority
worth your time?
especial to the living of risen riches for a new home, in the burden's?
if a rational of curiosity is for the neglected miasma of a superiority to crime?
the anger in your voice for the sanity of your neighbor's that lip service?
your wasting my time...
the labor of consideration is many and thankless, the violence of courage's
seemed for the fruition of salient worlds of fury, and the done identity of pristine
moments with a colorful assortment of consciences, yours smell like rag's...
choice, is a raging heart of composure, to few in the mindful hope of another
this toe of reasons futility is a clock of when to wind the universal clarity of vice
in the tangency of repose that was, the unearthed voice of inquiry come to mean airs
if but a kindred of swallows and the hap of roles in the dust, this mind wants spice
swords of requiem in the virulence of edges and the milk of continued worth
instinct for the shell of human emancipation we know, to be a clashing more
if to reenact the milling force of the lungs to blow, the tale of sheepish hearth's
liberty in the callous shadow we collected, the urge of honor is a fusion of religion, poor
shapes of searching and heard earning in the mists of time
the reality of victims of relationships of sparseness, the ulterior motive of kin
is but a sense of hap to confirm all, the rarity of selection for completeness of unity's rhyme
quiet, do you remind the works of anger for the semblance of wildness as if limbs?
decision, formidability, accrual
emissary or further prophecy seen, these lords of realization for you, cry
intangibility for the needs sought, if to whimsy, time has seen you frugal
if to tartness for the rest of a shame, the youth of your bed of lies, mires...
justice
the able breed of songs and the heed of revelation for the smile of generosity
complete to the still thriving deem of cruciality in the shared evil of vice
we have no lord, but the sanity of another, sayeth the lover of poise, cities
in the habit of cold futures, if to rend
the walk of superiority we acknowledge in a fury, them and haste
to whether of a sovereignty for a curse to wish, upon a climb
society to form, in our mission before the lore
if to will in the substance of a hill
in the accord of silence if the reach of soul's were
the place of virtue in your prayers, to welling days to fulfill
required with the smoldering irony of protest of jewry, firey
immediate in the voice of churched vision, the all of questions among the salt
of a requited vindication if to recollect in the duty of reasons
if to concern, the all of your habit of vengeance is a more to see, the agony of authority
worth your time?
especial to the living of risen riches for a new home, in the burden's?
if a rational of curiosity is for the neglected miasma of a superiority to crime?
the anger in your voice for the sanity of your neighbor's that lip service?
your wasting my time...
the labor of consideration is many and thankless, the violence of courage's
seemed for the fruition of salient worlds of fury, and the done identity of pristine
moments with a colorful assortment of consciences, yours smell like rag's...
choice, is a raging heart of composure, to few in the mindful hope of another
this toe of reasons futility is a clock of when to wind the universal clarity of vice
in the tangency of repose that was, the unearthed voice of inquiry come to mean airs
if but a kindred of swallows and the hap of roles in the dust, this mind wants spice
swords of requiem in the virulence of edges and the milk of continued worth
instinct for the shell of human emancipation we know, to be a clashing more
if to reenact the milling force of the lungs to blow, the tale of sheepish hearth's
liberty in the callous shadow we collected, the urge of honor is a fusion of religion, poor
shapes of searching and heard earning in the mists of time
the reality of victims of relationships of sparseness, the ulterior motive of kin
is but a sense of hap to confirm all, the rarity of selection for completeness of unity's rhyme
quiet, do you remind the works of anger for the semblance of wildness as if limbs?
decision, formidability, accrual
emissary or further prophecy seen, these lords of realization for you, cry
intangibility for the needs sought, if to whimsy, time has seen you frugal
if to tartness for the rest of a shame, the youth of your bed of lies, mires...
justice
the able breed of songs and the heed of revelation for the smile of generosity
complete to the still thriving deem of cruciality in the shared evil of vice
we have no lord, but the sanity of another, sayeth the lover of poise, cities
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Brows Or Grows, The Tale Of A Promise...
Brows Or Grows, The Tale Of A Promise...