Gord

2018-02-28 12:36 pm

Lyric, I write divine,
Chorus determinism.
Mind fine but life grand,
Guitar a work of vine,
For too few seconds,
Then bent to sand.

Humorous religion,
Reception mad alive,
Forewards and artistry,
A life pious. Mine.

Flounder only eaten,
Soul aptly designed.

Father, I write of lions,
But only of your will,
Type defined, candid.