WINE AND GATES
Persausion Without Kindness, Is Still A Pouting Now
on a shrewd day, love and rage
with a salty demeanor for the rescue of home
see the small of a liberty in held, the powers to face
with the muse of domain for the tried and true decency of those
merit in a shallow suggestion one day
those intoned voices and the aspect of choices we adore
taken to lengths of duty and justice for a pride to say
are with us like a visit from the night, and found with an odd worth
sharing the appointed course, in seperations and the intuition of here
heed me a clue to the service of knowing, the taste in flowers of destiny
the stale argument of stone and the irony of honor, to live among the placitudes of fear
the marvel of dread for a surly stead, has become the soul of dreams to stare, infinitely
thought ever greater, the stare is imminent, time and shine to wealth's of habit's conveyal
taken from the more, to know the accepted norm in the place of hell
wishes and the tissue of suppose, was found somehow neglected, the exaction of fell
for a rhyming salt, and the excuses of persons at fault, to question the misery of anger still
reason me a burden in gray, and you have seen the bitter truth
in the seemly way we delve into arguments with a canny our, we see the love
of aspiration and vehemence sewn, for a role in the arduos corridor's of oughting youth
we know your pain, says the future of us, we know your passion for the selection, of because
but the promise you made, stinks
the tool of your trade, with its lips of order and the smile of charisma, is verily all
of a sorts of candor nobody can well afford, the right to evincemnet for those that did, think
like a brooking gal, with a since in mind, for the rest of us, is service to finish the gall
thank you, and the horse you rode in on
was irrelevant, the toe of uncertainty for the jaundiced scope of history in lam or law
to know the scheme and dreams of another, somehow liberated from the soul of wrong
we kept the obvious of need and neglect, to seek the strength of time, to know and to cause...
where as a life in the shallows of truer freedom should note, the ordeal of it all
the sense from the poise of distances, the majority of exaction to live again, as a wield
of suggestion in good cause and course, for the reason of moments to give, the abetted fall
of spirit in the name of commencement, is no place for a wish in the wind to live for guilt
with a salty demeanor for the rescue of home
see the small of a liberty in held, the powers to face
with the muse of domain for the tried and true decency of those
merit in a shallow suggestion one day
those intoned voices and the aspect of choices we adore
taken to lengths of duty and justice for a pride to say
are with us like a visit from the night, and found with an odd worth
sharing the appointed course, in seperations and the intuition of here
heed me a clue to the service of knowing, the taste in flowers of destiny
the stale argument of stone and the irony of honor, to live among the placitudes of fear
the marvel of dread for a surly stead, has become the soul of dreams to stare, infinitely
thought ever greater, the stare is imminent, time and shine to wealth's of habit's conveyal
taken from the more, to know the accepted norm in the place of hell
wishes and the tissue of suppose, was found somehow neglected, the exaction of fell
for a rhyming salt, and the excuses of persons at fault, to question the misery of anger still
reason me a burden in gray, and you have seen the bitter truth
in the seemly way we delve into arguments with a canny our, we see the love
of aspiration and vehemence sewn, for a role in the arduos corridor's of oughting youth
we know your pain, says the future of us, we know your passion for the selection, of because
but the promise you made, stinks
the tool of your trade, with its lips of order and the smile of charisma, is verily all
of a sorts of candor nobody can well afford, the right to evincemnet for those that did, think
like a brooking gal, with a since in mind, for the rest of us, is service to finish the gall
thank you, and the horse you rode in on
was irrelevant, the toe of uncertainty for the jaundiced scope of history in lam or law
to know the scheme and dreams of another, somehow liberated from the soul of wrong
we kept the obvious of need and neglect, to seek the strength of time, to know and to cause...
where as a life in the shallows of truer freedom should note, the ordeal of it all
the sense from the poise of distances, the majority of exaction to live again, as a wield
of suggestion in good cause and course, for the reason of moments to give, the abetted fall
of spirit in the name of commencement, is no place for a wish in the wind to live for guilt
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Persausion Without Kindness, Is Still A Pouting Now
Persausion Without Kindness, Is Still A Pouting Now
