WINE AND GATES
Waiting On Fruition, To Give The Gift...
Other otherwise
Eat the sound, of disturbing times
Chance meeting with a guarded envy and it's trying
Is our named sense, furious enough to shine?
Shine through the misuse, abuse
Of a noble intent, so survived to keep
The living cares of love, forward to couth
But seldom to heed, the aches and shares of hellish seek
Sweet buoyancy, of a churched need
The promise of conscience at the end of it's rope...
Habit's forming, otherwise lead
To wondering mind's, found in the hand's of hope
Concern in a mature eye, to overwhelm the silence
Of pause and proportion, the service to a new ideal
In the wintery hold of passion, is our loved sigh...
Common to us or the girth of the wall, wherefore a soul will heal?
Other hastes
To welcome the day to a violent man's hard ship of verily that
The context of usurper's and harrowed life, comes to these for races
The truth to embitter and seek dishonest fruit, a history spat...
Done...
And gone to the shy confirmation of sincerity we acclaim as heaven itself?
The taste in suicide and the river of succor we know flows by, come
Come say we, the meaning of yearning in the end is for anyhow's wealth
Children of banality with no future, but the one made?
For us, the calling hour of a secret, in the stir of vaguery we keep with onus
Till the silence we made, has the seeking hell of disdain under its nose, said
The risen right of calm before the storm of admittance told, to become sensitivity loosed
To the sight's of avarice and the heralded form of superiority
Come for the sign's of heroism and the all of savagery, made like loll's oft due
We will keep the sour, one step more than an act of delve, an identity
Is for the averaged shadow, the mighty now to commit to, the stead of reckoning youth...
Eat the sound, of disturbing times
Chance meeting with a guarded envy and it's trying
Is our named sense, furious enough to shine?
Shine through the misuse, abuse
Of a noble intent, so survived to keep
The living cares of love, forward to couth
But seldom to heed, the aches and shares of hellish seek
Sweet buoyancy, of a churched need
The promise of conscience at the end of it's rope...
Habit's forming, otherwise lead
To wondering mind's, found in the hand's of hope
Concern in a mature eye, to overwhelm the silence
Of pause and proportion, the service to a new ideal
In the wintery hold of passion, is our loved sigh...
Common to us or the girth of the wall, wherefore a soul will heal?
Other hastes
To welcome the day to a violent man's hard ship of verily that
The context of usurper's and harrowed life, comes to these for races
The truth to embitter and seek dishonest fruit, a history spat...
Done...
And gone to the shy confirmation of sincerity we acclaim as heaven itself?
The taste in suicide and the river of succor we know flows by, come
Come say we, the meaning of yearning in the end is for anyhow's wealth
Children of banality with no future, but the one made?
For us, the calling hour of a secret, in the stir of vaguery we keep with onus
Till the silence we made, has the seeking hell of disdain under its nose, said
The risen right of calm before the storm of admittance told, to become sensitivity loosed
To the sight's of avarice and the heralded form of superiority
Come for the sign's of heroism and the all of savagery, made like loll's oft due
We will keep the sour, one step more than an act of delve, an identity
Is for the averaged shadow, the mighty now to commit to, the stead of reckoning youth...
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Waiting On Fruition, To Give The Gift...
Waiting On Fruition, To Give The Gift...
