WINE AND GATES
Perhaps Wound, In A Little Ball, And Chewed Until Gone?
favorite mete
of a new thought to win the day
tomorrow we seek the very life of legend, let
with a bastion of composure to show, for the sense in any
favorite courage
time with a shallow depends makes work here
a rack and ruin come for the rest of a story, strange
the taste of alcohol here though, as if innermost fear
favorite suddenness
lips of chance on a street of overwhelming odds
the taint of conditions in the know, to survive the bitterness
of a crazed hour with the likes of yearning, and earning the bite of the law
favorite conscience
majority is ruled by the scope of its sit with senses of another
direct to causes unseen, or those just come around the corner, pleasance
is the tool of an angel with his own, bold is a handsome man to urge and to bother
favorite precognition
the tried and true voice of sincerity in an otherwise unaccustomed mirror
past the part of open worlds, passes of commonness to live in sin
silence with a roller of bet he hold her, in a dance that convinced the devil to hear
favorite frustration
whether sent to the north for another, or dimly lit with an ulterior season
the sign of the times is a cost best found by ourselves, a place in the sun
that comes at a cost, the tartness of envy in the span and reach of eaves succumb, to reason
favorite prophet
arduous though a hateful breed is among the notion of duty and the security of shoulders
could with a salutations for the candid turn around, the sour push for exaction met
the life of a friend in jeopardy is still our message, if not misery for another holds here
favorite tenacity
thought with a neglected sink of what is and what is not
the bruised ego of ought, to seek but another first for the rest of virtuosity
is like this, the pain of a fear in the limelight of its dreams made reality, some lot...
favorite favorite
schemes of dole and depends to deliver the senses to a good tiding, we seek your soul
for a mercy in coincidence that has the seclusion of praise and ages to itself, like water
we see the moments until the fury of a lord of distances know you, for a quieter goal
of a new thought to win the day
tomorrow we seek the very life of legend, let
with a bastion of composure to show, for the sense in any
favorite courage
time with a shallow depends makes work here
a rack and ruin come for the rest of a story, strange
the taste of alcohol here though, as if innermost fear
favorite suddenness
lips of chance on a street of overwhelming odds
the taint of conditions in the know, to survive the bitterness
of a crazed hour with the likes of yearning, and earning the bite of the law
favorite conscience
majority is ruled by the scope of its sit with senses of another
direct to causes unseen, or those just come around the corner, pleasance
is the tool of an angel with his own, bold is a handsome man to urge and to bother
favorite precognition
the tried and true voice of sincerity in an otherwise unaccustomed mirror
past the part of open worlds, passes of commonness to live in sin
silence with a roller of bet he hold her, in a dance that convinced the devil to hear
favorite frustration
whether sent to the north for another, or dimly lit with an ulterior season
the sign of the times is a cost best found by ourselves, a place in the sun
that comes at a cost, the tartness of envy in the span and reach of eaves succumb, to reason
favorite prophet
arduous though a hateful breed is among the notion of duty and the security of shoulders
could with a salutations for the candid turn around, the sour push for exaction met
the life of a friend in jeopardy is still our message, if not misery for another holds here
favorite tenacity
thought with a neglected sink of what is and what is not
the bruised ego of ought, to seek but another first for the rest of virtuosity
is like this, the pain of a fear in the limelight of its dreams made reality, some lot...
favorite favorite
schemes of dole and depends to deliver the senses to a good tiding, we seek your soul
for a mercy in coincidence that has the seclusion of praise and ages to itself, like water
we see the moments until the fury of a lord of distances know you, for a quieter goal
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Perhaps Wound, In A Little Ball, And Chewed Until Gone?
Perhaps Wound, In A Little Ball, And Chewed Until Gone?
