WINE AND GATES
Secretary's That Work For Olives...
Glasses for milk
In the hands of a chastity, where...
Has a lucky dime been, the problem with children?
Is a careful sense, true to this and that, and their...
Times with a changing season, futures we don, to overt haste?
Look at your eyes in our senses, home kept beauty?
Announcing a golden reason, we may find is a kindred's taste?
Left to imagination's honor, a world will simply ask you, who...
Presumption and focus of an evening eye
Onto the tale of lucid minds, and the tows of severity...
We just experienced, is a tangible bird at the window, a forward lie?
Hope is the ordeal of exhaustion of a baser try, hidden from our history...?
Talk of a human success, at the ends of the land...
Sour admit, of rage is our call to envy, couldn't we become any?
Or, is the presence of ever, a light we seek by a coy hand...?
As if the marvel's and patience for panic's bless, are winds come from or for many...?
Trust, on a chin with a remorse for each, cease...?
At the scent of vice, immediacy and or the terror we, dread?
If the milestone of conscience and fruition, if meaning's come to eaves?
That has become our honor, as the name of all, if philosophy lead?
See the thread in the shadows, mice with none will say...
As shrewd as a martyred fame can be, the toes of witnesses how...
With a place for us, as the smiles of demand and courses in asking may...
A heavy eye with shame for a pillow, save itself from a fire before it's hisses...?
Ironically, and the duty of callousness in the norm?
To address a candor's mercy, we note is our only hour of cope...
Truth is a salty old girl with names on her mind, a bile to wishes and forms
We have never known, except to see them in courage as we pine and drive, our way to mores...
In the hands of a chastity, where...
Has a lucky dime been, the problem with children?
Is a careful sense, true to this and that, and their...
Times with a changing season, futures we don, to overt haste?
Look at your eyes in our senses, home kept beauty?
Announcing a golden reason, we may find is a kindred's taste?
Left to imagination's honor, a world will simply ask you, who...
Presumption and focus of an evening eye
Onto the tale of lucid minds, and the tows of severity...
We just experienced, is a tangible bird at the window, a forward lie?
Hope is the ordeal of exhaustion of a baser try, hidden from our history...?
Talk of a human success, at the ends of the land...
Sour admit, of rage is our call to envy, couldn't we become any?
Or, is the presence of ever, a light we seek by a coy hand...?
As if the marvel's and patience for panic's bless, are winds come from or for many...?
Trust, on a chin with a remorse for each, cease...?
At the scent of vice, immediacy and or the terror we, dread?
If the milestone of conscience and fruition, if meaning's come to eaves?
That has become our honor, as the name of all, if philosophy lead?
See the thread in the shadows, mice with none will say...
As shrewd as a martyred fame can be, the toes of witnesses how...
With a place for us, as the smiles of demand and courses in asking may...
A heavy eye with shame for a pillow, save itself from a fire before it's hisses...?
Ironically, and the duty of callousness in the norm?
To address a candor's mercy, we note is our only hour of cope...
Truth is a salty old girl with names on her mind, a bile to wishes and forms
We have never known, except to see them in courage as we pine and drive, our way to mores...
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Secretary`s That Work For Olives...
Secretary`s That Work For Olives...
