WINE AND GATES
Kicking The Habit (Of Sense And Somehow Known)
done to due
this and that, the marvel of unions of cause
without the stare of infirmity we made, for the skip of who
in the days reach for a salty song, the role of lives by odds
sour complaints and the higher function of notoriety to same
made from the curiosity we have, turns
of gold and the hold of a lip, have and to soul, the power to name
in these ways we see the future, for the sign's of the trying whimsy we earn
so far so good, but the lips of providence have a sense all to themselves
where we are, the anarchy of unity for the bright mind of a friend
still, the who and the good intentions we make, for another be or seem, delves
with a careful eye for the rest of the story, we know the laugh of it, till the end
memory served, for a salute to the season of composure that makes us a liberty, in views?
special need for the reach of anywhere, beyond the pointed half of nowhere, but the horizon
many more voices and the choices of seclusion and its harbored nary done soon
but for a kind habit in the fold of grace we are, the moments until the world has come
sand with a mind for me, moving by like responsibility still
hearts aplomb, the honor of other out and about, a comely now
sent to chills of avarice or the stead of merriment ahead, will
we ever seek another hill of justice like that one, still and how...?
this and that, the marvel of unions of cause
without the stare of infirmity we made, for the skip of who
in the days reach for a salty song, the role of lives by odds
sour complaints and the higher function of notoriety to same
made from the curiosity we have, turns
of gold and the hold of a lip, have and to soul, the power to name
in these ways we see the future, for the sign's of the trying whimsy we earn
so far so good, but the lips of providence have a sense all to themselves
where we are, the anarchy of unity for the bright mind of a friend
still, the who and the good intentions we make, for another be or seem, delves
with a careful eye for the rest of the story, we know the laugh of it, till the end
memory served, for a salute to the season of composure that makes us a liberty, in views?
special need for the reach of anywhere, beyond the pointed half of nowhere, but the horizon
many more voices and the choices of seclusion and its harbored nary done soon
but for a kind habit in the fold of grace we are, the moments until the world has come
sand with a mind for me, moving by like responsibility still
hearts aplomb, the honor of other out and about, a comely now
sent to chills of avarice or the stead of merriment ahead, will
we ever seek another hill of justice like that one, still and how...?
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Kicking The Habit (Of Sense And Somehow Known)
Kicking The Habit (Of Sense And Somehow Known)
