WINE AND GATES
Been Before Roses In Leftover's OK, Bananas?
ten little times of choice
joy, do you remember the sign of the times
if to correct anyhow or the embarrassment of now, the seriousness of the cloy
in your hands for the right, immature courtesy of don't in the history we make, nyes
judge of the treasured smile of another, the cant with the want, of knowing the mine
in the charity we bestow, for a crassness in the since, of chance to consider
the needs of anger, for a space in view of deeds, the charisma of courage to subject this time
to the neglected kiss of dares and the nary of issues known, to defer for noted insight, we're
just to the sincerity of callous lips of naivete, we see the scope of another muse
in the moments until changes of dread and the sovereignty of ahead, is a clashing shape
of due and candor, tis the tears of sanity that are, the wealth of each his or her, soon
the talk of savagery and the severity of poised friendships for the more, we utterly hate...
justice to the tooth, of courses of dreams worth their very dance and kind meal
of fruition in the mine, of showmanship for the ordeal of sake and lore in a wrong wait
the sulking of duty for another one, is but a language to itself seen so many times by society
but eaten once, in the redress of earning the future, for you too much likened in the safety...
journeys of signals and the hope of concern in the heart
of a lending goal of done more than you, the imagination of sophistication worth means
to an end of fews of reason come hell or high water, the still of childhood found, to be tart
the smarty pants in the wings of virtue stinks, the monument to vices in place of kindreds in
joke about the margin of error of a visionary kiss in the sands of time:
the wall of a house tumbles in, and winds ask the sole inhabitant if they want to do it again?
the person looks around and says, "sure why not, but don't tell my dead spouse"
heres the punch line, the only survivor was a ghost, want to hear it again ...?
jewels of the suppose at the end of our final live and let live, to know a habit is clever
when of a smaller witness than the such of more or else in love, the taste of cope
is in the certainty of an eye watching your ever move, the distances and the time be damned
except for the conscience of using the words we know for a little more hope
jam with a known taste, for you to reach for better
liberty for a crescendo of presumed gain of a dole worth anything said, for demands
depends on the smell of song, says the head of clues in the many ways we seek dids or a litter
of sanity in the miles until we know one city, for the price of two, does this made bed, lands?
jelly in the stars to keep a promise with you, the stare of suggestion worth a Hippocrates
the aching and the snoring beautys that know, the angel of done for the rest of us
the aptly named virtue of conditions and imitations of sense we keep, for a lip of sates
is a levity to commit to anything but sex, your voice was a herald of dim praise for thus...
jude in the way of an observed season for the rest of us, the thanks are due
to any man, woman or child who can sink the boat that stole our hearts, sensible?
woman and children first makes a story smell all the better, where as the man ate every one, you
risen form the achoo of solitude that knew itself, the misery was in militancy
jogging by one day, to look at the news in the window, where even the dresses agree with all
does war owe itself a stiff kick in the behind, when your neighbors have only matches to say?
isn't this nose of choices yours to save, the next of kin in line to the question of gall
which came out like this, in the smile of order and chaos to deliver simplicity's name ...
joy, do you remember the sign of the times
if to correct anyhow or the embarrassment of now, the seriousness of the cloy
in your hands for the right, immature courtesy of don't in the history we make, nyes
judge of the treasured smile of another, the cant with the want, of knowing the mine
in the charity we bestow, for a crassness in the since, of chance to consider
the needs of anger, for a space in view of deeds, the charisma of courage to subject this time
to the neglected kiss of dares and the nary of issues known, to defer for noted insight, we're
just to the sincerity of callous lips of naivete, we see the scope of another muse
in the moments until changes of dread and the sovereignty of ahead, is a clashing shape
of due and candor, tis the tears of sanity that are, the wealth of each his or her, soon
the talk of savagery and the severity of poised friendships for the more, we utterly hate...
justice to the tooth, of courses of dreams worth their very dance and kind meal
of fruition in the mine, of showmanship for the ordeal of sake and lore in a wrong wait
the sulking of duty for another one, is but a language to itself seen so many times by society
but eaten once, in the redress of earning the future, for you too much likened in the safety...
journeys of signals and the hope of concern in the heart
of a lending goal of done more than you, the imagination of sophistication worth means
to an end of fews of reason come hell or high water, the still of childhood found, to be tart
the smarty pants in the wings of virtue stinks, the monument to vices in place of kindreds in
joke about the margin of error of a visionary kiss in the sands of time:
the wall of a house tumbles in, and winds ask the sole inhabitant if they want to do it again?
the person looks around and says, "sure why not, but don't tell my dead spouse"
heres the punch line, the only survivor was a ghost, want to hear it again ...?
jewels of the suppose at the end of our final live and let live, to know a habit is clever
when of a smaller witness than the such of more or else in love, the taste of cope
is in the certainty of an eye watching your ever move, the distances and the time be damned
except for the conscience of using the words we know for a little more hope
jam with a known taste, for you to reach for better
liberty for a crescendo of presumed gain of a dole worth anything said, for demands
depends on the smell of song, says the head of clues in the many ways we seek dids or a litter
of sanity in the miles until we know one city, for the price of two, does this made bed, lands?
jelly in the stars to keep a promise with you, the stare of suggestion worth a Hippocrates
the aching and the snoring beautys that know, the angel of done for the rest of us
the aptly named virtue of conditions and imitations of sense we keep, for a lip of sates
is a levity to commit to anything but sex, your voice was a herald of dim praise for thus...
jude in the way of an observed season for the rest of us, the thanks are due
to any man, woman or child who can sink the boat that stole our hearts, sensible?
woman and children first makes a story smell all the better, where as the man ate every one, you
risen form the achoo of solitude that knew itself, the misery was in militancy
jogging by one day, to look at the news in the window, where even the dresses agree with all
does war owe itself a stiff kick in the behind, when your neighbors have only matches to say?
isn't this nose of choices yours to save, the next of kin in line to the question of gall
which came out like this, in the smile of order and chaos to deliver simplicity's name ...
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Been Before Roses In Leftover`s OK, Bananas?
Been Before Roses In Leftover`s OK, Bananas?
