WINE AND GATES
Didn't, Vitamin B6 Wore Your Sole By Forward?
places for the blame
the talk of young hour, in the shoes of oddity
in treacle, we have no friends, for ashes or the drive of lament
sickened stones for the sour of done, the name of liberty...
this breath with a song...
the stain of decision, the act of pandered homes
the merit in a painted lip, the tart end of forever more, than you...?
haunt the doors of wages made, the fear of sincerity has become the worth, if eyes ever roam
places in the heart
just how passed over, can a sulking mind be?
the thought of somehow and the voice in the sound, of another shell in the start
of a cause with no name, except yours, the duty of aching and bells in the key...
of since the dreams found in a busy story in the eaves
where the miracle of another build for the sanction of illustration in the edges
of new questions to the nose you found, for the entertaining gone of risks to heave
the martyr of ordeals in firsts and lasts, is a wall with a number to its rages?
sexy teen's?
night for the shroud of dimness that has come to these, the naked emotion
of a lip with no more instinct for isn't than a calling bird, in the wind or its hands
like hair to excuse from the front of the shoulder, are you ready for a life in the poor, nation
aten?
where the music changes, the myth of nuance for a drivel in clueless smiles to the north
haven't you seen the dizzy example, of wishes in the washed moments until we are fate?
taken to extremes of worthiness in the egis of time to presume, the nature of doom was curt
fornication?
paired with a hat in the window to come, for the rest of the fruit of that damned eye
this boughten dilemma of sound and hair in the way, is for a lover that has seen...
the broth of yours, the minute until whether in a livid way, is ours to keep a damned lie
toward?
the fury of a single rather rudimentary kiss, in the name of coping thine, twinkling
in the both of scope and the hope of another one, the future has become the sound, of a sword
tinkling on the many, more than mine, mind the stranger in the rough, with a butt of a joking
won?
the taste of brother's and sisters with none, leaving the one and only original behind
your torment, your ecstasy of done and delivered, tongue...
is my navel purity of another sandwich, neglected by the facts, expected by face, to finery?
thirst for the demanding hours, the caffeine you divulge, you sour at
the stocks and tirade of dreams never so fascinating but for sticks of jaded onus, strange
the underneath of seasons seen, for the share of duress in the slide of gloom that has...
grim reaper or the fury of an angel with no shoes, the token of done is ours for a song, mayhem
seen at high speed, the tantrum of dismay, in the smiles of dismal greed, provided
the next in line...
is still a child of no mans land, with a trite savior in the notion of common glue
to accuse but a sun with no place to go, but the vision of courage that has become, sublime
share and share alike, the neglect of portion and psyche in a mature way, is but an answer...
what comes before youth, when the boat is not only sinking, but has a whole in its needs?
I hate you, and the horse of precoscious lives in the terror you declare homage, to all verve
threaded bare whispers of control in the light of disdain that came, for a cleverer she'd...
the talk of young hour, in the shoes of oddity
in treacle, we have no friends, for ashes or the drive of lament
sickened stones for the sour of done, the name of liberty...
this breath with a song...
the stain of decision, the act of pandered homes
the merit in a painted lip, the tart end of forever more, than you...?
haunt the doors of wages made, the fear of sincerity has become the worth, if eyes ever roam
places in the heart
just how passed over, can a sulking mind be?
the thought of somehow and the voice in the sound, of another shell in the start
of a cause with no name, except yours, the duty of aching and bells in the key...
of since the dreams found in a busy story in the eaves
where the miracle of another build for the sanction of illustration in the edges
of new questions to the nose you found, for the entertaining gone of risks to heave
the martyr of ordeals in firsts and lasts, is a wall with a number to its rages?
sexy teen's?
night for the shroud of dimness that has come to these, the naked emotion
of a lip with no more instinct for isn't than a calling bird, in the wind or its hands
like hair to excuse from the front of the shoulder, are you ready for a life in the poor, nation
aten?
where the music changes, the myth of nuance for a drivel in clueless smiles to the north
haven't you seen the dizzy example, of wishes in the washed moments until we are fate?
taken to extremes of worthiness in the egis of time to presume, the nature of doom was curt
fornication?
paired with a hat in the window to come, for the rest of the fruit of that damned eye
this boughten dilemma of sound and hair in the way, is for a lover that has seen...
the broth of yours, the minute until whether in a livid way, is ours to keep a damned lie
toward?
the fury of a single rather rudimentary kiss, in the name of coping thine, twinkling
in the both of scope and the hope of another one, the future has become the sound, of a sword
tinkling on the many, more than mine, mind the stranger in the rough, with a butt of a joking
won?
the taste of brother's and sisters with none, leaving the one and only original behind
your torment, your ecstasy of done and delivered, tongue...
is my navel purity of another sandwich, neglected by the facts, expected by face, to finery?
thirst for the demanding hours, the caffeine you divulge, you sour at
the stocks and tirade of dreams never so fascinating but for sticks of jaded onus, strange
the underneath of seasons seen, for the share of duress in the slide of gloom that has...
grim reaper or the fury of an angel with no shoes, the token of done is ours for a song, mayhem
seen at high speed, the tantrum of dismay, in the smiles of dismal greed, provided
the next in line...
is still a child of no mans land, with a trite savior in the notion of common glue
to accuse but a sun with no place to go, but the vision of courage that has become, sublime
share and share alike, the neglect of portion and psyche in a mature way, is but an answer...
what comes before youth, when the boat is not only sinking, but has a whole in its needs?
I hate you, and the horse of precoscious lives in the terror you declare homage, to all verve
threaded bare whispers of control in the light of disdain that came, for a cleverer she'd...
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Didn`t, Vitamin B6 Wore Your Sole By Forward?
Didn`t, Vitamin B6 Wore Your Sole By Forward?
