WINE AND GATES
Sam Hill And The Money, Same Hell As The Known?
Baby language...?
So found, so invisible to have, said
Stir's of pomposity to serve, the face for an entourage?
Climbing the stare's, of when to whisper at saved...
See my lip's, tone of deeds to reason
Rather than angel, the truth or the decency
Welling habit's in harboring's of clarity, to season
The gift's of silence were a raging family...?
Seed's and brown enough leather, seemly eyes
For the working share is forces, to live worth one more day
Taking the problem head wrong, the terror of surprise for a four-letter denial
Shame in a bottle? the sated remains of common courage, to deliver inane, same
Craving another?
Sense in the bespoken many, so to each
The bared reach for answer's to the world, toward father
The commencement of futures, where we silently peek
Mine, versus year's?
Crashing into the word's, of decision and the might of broken record's
Regret as we foretold, the misery in a hand, for a few to yearn, obscure
Is my first second, and my last my first, as if wishes went forward?
Still a weighed voice?
Where is the angel I loved, lest with anarchy in sordid live?
Pain and prejudice to partake of my needs, or do I have yours, for choice?
Well to do, the courses in the patience I show, with history to sin...?
Like the jostled paces of a room with no new news
The caring and witnessing of a larger than life, waiting and sating
Dancing with you, is a reason if a fire? of a steam, which I know looses
A hair of prayer to the known, calling upon the all, I fear maybe...
Like the truth in a triumphant ear, I see a breath with edges of legends...
Terror is my need, the reach of youth I feel was a rational risk dimming
Of justice served, the catch of an eye on my sour knee, where time of wages...
Lion's of service to an ideal, cleverer than a salt to wish in the wind...?
Merry old me, the tooth I realize is a watery house, with none, but fun
For the table to seek, a head of craving and the sincerity of beguiling more...
To stead a playful ear again, are we still the creature of right I seem to be, one
Shame? Clandestine? Havoc? Indecision? Angelic? Formed?
Still of night, the next of youth to overwhelm the still bared mercy
Of my needs as a durable candor, voiced amid feet of tendency, where ailing is a grace
True to me, is a star the next of kin, kind, or king; as if a fruit of worry?
Sheets of bedrooms made to see, the vicinity of a scared mind, the foil of worth I ask?
Many more than you...
The tooth to live, in a reasoned glazed eye of simplicity, to acquire a sanity
In motion for the irony of neglect, with an hour to do
Half a stare for embellished mere? with a patience so same, the truth of vanity...
So found, so invisible to have, said
Stir's of pomposity to serve, the face for an entourage?
Climbing the stare's, of when to whisper at saved...
See my lip's, tone of deeds to reason
Rather than angel, the truth or the decency
Welling habit's in harboring's of clarity, to season
The gift's of silence were a raging family...?
Seed's and brown enough leather, seemly eyes
For the working share is forces, to live worth one more day
Taking the problem head wrong, the terror of surprise for a four-letter denial
Shame in a bottle? the sated remains of common courage, to deliver inane, same
Craving another?
Sense in the bespoken many, so to each
The bared reach for answer's to the world, toward father
The commencement of futures, where we silently peek
Mine, versus year's?
Crashing into the word's, of decision and the might of broken record's
Regret as we foretold, the misery in a hand, for a few to yearn, obscure
Is my first second, and my last my first, as if wishes went forward?
Still a weighed voice?
Where is the angel I loved, lest with anarchy in sordid live?
Pain and prejudice to partake of my needs, or do I have yours, for choice?
Well to do, the courses in the patience I show, with history to sin...?
Like the jostled paces of a room with no new news
The caring and witnessing of a larger than life, waiting and sating
Dancing with you, is a reason if a fire? of a steam, which I know looses
A hair of prayer to the known, calling upon the all, I fear maybe...
Like the truth in a triumphant ear, I see a breath with edges of legends...
Terror is my need, the reach of youth I feel was a rational risk dimming
Of justice served, the catch of an eye on my sour knee, where time of wages...
Lion's of service to an ideal, cleverer than a salt to wish in the wind...?
Merry old me, the tooth I realize is a watery house, with none, but fun
For the table to seek, a head of craving and the sincerity of beguiling more...
To stead a playful ear again, are we still the creature of right I seem to be, one
Shame? Clandestine? Havoc? Indecision? Angelic? Formed?
Still of night, the next of youth to overwhelm the still bared mercy
Of my needs as a durable candor, voiced amid feet of tendency, where ailing is a grace
True to me, is a star the next of kin, kind, or king; as if a fruit of worry?
Sheets of bedrooms made to see, the vicinity of a scared mind, the foil of worth I ask?
Many more than you...
The tooth to live, in a reasoned glazed eye of simplicity, to acquire a sanity
In motion for the irony of neglect, with an hour to do
Half a stare for embellished mere? with a patience so same, the truth of vanity...
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Sam Hill And The Money, Same Hell As The Known?
Sam Hill And The Money, Same Hell As The Known?
