WINE AND GATES
Turns, Man Of Sulk And Muses, Again (You?)
hints of rain, in your conversation
with a tool of ponderous days, the naked few in a habitual gesture
of kindness to the steaming land, ready for a salty excise, come the way of kin
to know the exaction of pleasance, for the rest of day met with curiosity
anxious or dainty, the tell tale bird of circumstance has found us altogether
promises and the soul of investigation worth their similar or fair, condition
we can see the preparation of sense in our midst's lent amet a none, to gather
a sense of hap for a semblance in gifts, to the irony of choice that is doles amended
is my fact of germane scares and the skirting of over zealousy the knowing of the days?
we are urges of common people to rationalize the advancement of sorrow as a weapon
weal and the still of a rhythmic keep, this heart knows more than pain
it and the sour regard of a name for the conscience of duty of others, here is thunder
in paradise, the terror of solutions in gray fusions and the knowledge of kind over couth
is but a hand shook, the smile of decency to concede the martyrdom of goodness gracious
the poise and parable of meandering they's, with no psyche for another, in the name of youth?
today is the day, the morbidity of misery in the open, to know a mind with sense, vacuous
with a tool of ponderous days, the naked few in a habitual gesture
of kindness to the steaming land, ready for a salty excise, come the way of kin
to know the exaction of pleasance, for the rest of day met with curiosity
anxious or dainty, the tell tale bird of circumstance has found us altogether
promises and the soul of investigation worth their similar or fair, condition
we can see the preparation of sense in our midst's lent amet a none, to gather
a sense of hap for a semblance in gifts, to the irony of choice that is doles amended
is my fact of germane scares and the skirting of over zealousy the knowing of the days?
we are urges of common people to rationalize the advancement of sorrow as a weapon
weal and the still of a rhythmic keep, this heart knows more than pain
it and the sour regard of a name for the conscience of duty of others, here is thunder
in paradise, the terror of solutions in gray fusions and the knowledge of kind over couth
is but a hand shook, the smile of decency to concede the martyrdom of goodness gracious
the poise and parable of meandering they's, with no psyche for another, in the name of youth?
today is the day, the morbidity of misery in the open, to know a mind with sense, vacuous
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Turns, Man Of Sulk And Muses, Again (You?)
Turns, Man Of Sulk And Muses, Again (You?)
