One imagines themselves mighty, Brightening the sand green, Perspiring with the people, Irradiated as it may be, It feeds the mind, for free. No future winter seeming fair. Porous players will evolve, With sinister gods favored. Last of a virtue, Patronizing and redefining the former earth, Denying that which lies between our worlds.
Sages of the weary art. Common ground beef, Butcher incompetent. Trees at ground level, Full stocks, metal jacket, Content if passion bandaged. Rambling speak, How does the pastor manage, A sermon a week? He lies to his sheep, Tells them of black men.
Cross bred are the soldiers, Artists common to the last works, Finality of human soul is earth. Salt So dietary it kills the world.
Tragedy of the writer's, Self penned, Self authored, Pampered as law owners, Forlorn as a poet. God's handless write love letters unknowing, Upon a bench perched, seeing nothing odd, Lies to himself, creates really false. Did they not want drama, Or is non-compliance, fault?
Common amongst cannon is balls, Steel walls and inevitably, Grim death at the priory. Chance meeting inevitability, Trading stocking cap for beanie, Fortuna smiled upon him, Hammock soldiers now needy, Priority is the thugs have their street, Rather than classes chance meeting, Fleeting as their hatred may be.
Massacre of snow, Child of the show, Slowly bleeds out. Career slowly peters, cloudy. What revisits, reissued, remains, Revised so the nature is the man, With cervical bone in hand, A deity claims law, Being whole of the land.
Wit running constant. Consultant armed. Why educate, When you can farm greatness. Messianic future calmed, The boyhood dream dies. Horses of the soul. Men of the mind.
Child, write. Pages alone cannot set alight, For words have not oxygen, Yet provide an ignition. Catalyzing transmissionless engines. Breath of the new age, Where fire is unimaginable. Cold air his the vestibule, Concerned with that visible, and indivisible. The world turns to a glued page, Lamenting a future caged, and unchanged.
As tradgic as future sound. Ground eventually hit tarmac, Inverse of the ultimate, Cut sleep, Cut meat, Cover rent, paid in freedoms. Beyond bent metal is bent men, Tragically beyond them the concept. One has freedom in their hands.
Neither side Tamarack, Fight of the fat necked fools, Plague of constant addictions, Evolving unemployment tools. Told to stay, Yet constant movement with No beast to slay, No need fur goods, No need for gold. Dismay of only complacent future, No brandy for feigning culture, Prone future of needle-side nurturing.
Cancer begets cancer, society begets society, For doesn't piety amble? Doesn't a father lie, when providing simple answers? Questions beget questions, When space is found ample.
Three found in solace, Dependant upon two for homage, The hammer bent metal; Providing knees in knowledge, Until cap insatiable; Those that tread upon water, Are stomped into mud this age;
He puts on his cap, Regardless of a bat or bases, His face is just like his dads, So they clap. Beyond a pale horse is forever-after. Regardless of initial fervor lacking. Many men look upon a hill backing, Ocean drying the Earth's pasture. So they have.