WINE AND GATES
Doesn't Love Buy The Years For Too...?
shame of it, it of shame
quiet more to ignore, the tension of silence
in love with nothing, more than a habit's aim
where the tale has a leaving eye, the know is in the hands of chaste
consciences of low, do you know the pace of exist
and anarchy, found in the heart of done, the course in hath
them to end, with a brace of sensation, found for since in ours, to is
too many powers to list, prayers will do, the countenance of any mans, death
dread the very words?
in the head of even the simplest of courage's and by far, the truth in its roam
toward anything more, the paces of dreams to each, and the call for us heard
joy for a simple eye still knowing you, for a creation in causes come
shared a livid accord with even the devil himself?
tore the benign from the jaded hour of seclusion for the mine in mind?
swore the particularity of commonness is in the step toward, hope's wealth?
compared the misconduct of ones hell, with a range of voice for any, old wink kind...?
welcome to paradise, and a youth
never known for all but the asking, where a lip of suggestion is our only rescue
from here to eternal levity of any and how, the mere mention of love's couth
is the taste of history for a soul lofty enough to see, even a harrowed only of needy...
pages turned for the stand of causes continuing with a breath for chance, if
the orders of anxiety and the art of heed, is a liberty to give
the patience of am, amet and admittance in the name of silences must, misery
come for the life in haven't this nativity, or has in a babe's mouth, live...
quiet more to ignore, the tension of silence
in love with nothing, more than a habit's aim
where the tale has a leaving eye, the know is in the hands of chaste
consciences of low, do you know the pace of exist
and anarchy, found in the heart of done, the course in hath
them to end, with a brace of sensation, found for since in ours, to is
too many powers to list, prayers will do, the countenance of any mans, death
dread the very words?
in the head of even the simplest of courage's and by far, the truth in its roam
toward anything more, the paces of dreams to each, and the call for us heard
joy for a simple eye still knowing you, for a creation in causes come
shared a livid accord with even the devil himself?
tore the benign from the jaded hour of seclusion for the mine in mind?
swore the particularity of commonness is in the step toward, hope's wealth?
compared the misconduct of ones hell, with a range of voice for any, old wink kind...?
welcome to paradise, and a youth
never known for all but the asking, where a lip of suggestion is our only rescue
from here to eternal levity of any and how, the mere mention of love's couth
is the taste of history for a soul lofty enough to see, even a harrowed only of needy...
pages turned for the stand of causes continuing with a breath for chance, if
the orders of anxiety and the art of heed, is a liberty to give
the patience of am, amet and admittance in the name of silences must, misery
come for the life in haven't this nativity, or has in a babe's mouth, live...
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Doesn`t Love Buy The Years For Too...?
Doesn`t Love Buy The Years For Too...?
