WINE AND GATES
Sharing Haves Drive Honor Made Like Beds?
good
the toil in a happy eye, without the sense to lie
upon the bed of alarm and the stars themselves, who'd
be a cold shoulder with somewhere to go, like a dried eye...
this moreover and this poor wait, for the signature of charity versus clarity
in a meld of union and the still thriving chaste, we accompany
to nevermore, the taste of honor on every man's lips, to count disparity
go take your show to the east, where a million to one chance has way too many...
nights and gifts
the turn of service into a surreal likewise, the hasty odor
of composure for the rest of our lives
sheep and deep done, for a classic clue to the merriment of worth
lovers with no hand in, know no hand out to be, forever
the tarter the terror in a harrowed eye, the greater the sign of claim to quicken the pace
panic and doting not, married forever in a half eaten house, for Pete's sake and never
the change of seasons comes here first, like the planet has a wage...
still the rued kissing of a neighborhood with a shamed face...
the truer look of lucre and the poise of honored have, we seek the mine
for a lover to begin in the since of similarity, that is almost never a waste
left to its own devices, the take of next, for a broken severity for kind
fly's that named you altogether
the wink at the end of the day, is the same as the one in the morning
except for the stars to save us and sway anywhere we need, the place is easy others
of urges and untoward nothings, accept the obvious, we have a stake in warning...?
talk, talk
think, think, the taste was for a summary delve, of needs and heeds
in the cool and limber sanity's we adore, but wish would die for our next of fault
which turns out to be nothing more than a caring sour business with a furious leads
the toil in a happy eye, without the sense to lie
upon the bed of alarm and the stars themselves, who'd
be a cold shoulder with somewhere to go, like a dried eye...
this moreover and this poor wait, for the signature of charity versus clarity
in a meld of union and the still thriving chaste, we accompany
to nevermore, the taste of honor on every man's lips, to count disparity
go take your show to the east, where a million to one chance has way too many...
nights and gifts
the turn of service into a surreal likewise, the hasty odor
of composure for the rest of our lives
sheep and deep done, for a classic clue to the merriment of worth
lovers with no hand in, know no hand out to be, forever
the tarter the terror in a harrowed eye, the greater the sign of claim to quicken the pace
panic and doting not, married forever in a half eaten house, for Pete's sake and never
the change of seasons comes here first, like the planet has a wage...
still the rued kissing of a neighborhood with a shamed face...
the truer look of lucre and the poise of honored have, we seek the mine
for a lover to begin in the since of similarity, that is almost never a waste
left to its own devices, the take of next, for a broken severity for kind
fly's that named you altogether
the wink at the end of the day, is the same as the one in the morning
except for the stars to save us and sway anywhere we need, the place is easy others
of urges and untoward nothings, accept the obvious, we have a stake in warning...?
talk, talk
think, think, the taste was for a summary delve, of needs and heeds
in the cool and limber sanity's we adore, but wish would die for our next of fault
which turns out to be nothing more than a caring sour business with a furious leads
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Sharing Haves Drive Honor Made Like Beds?
Sharing Haves Drive Honor Made Like Beds?