The Cross High Assemble
The man's hand do trembleWith sorrowful temple
In the cross high assemble
Sweating honeydew cremble
He communicates freely
But hardly they see thee
In the cross high assemble
For the parched and the needy
The aisle is draft coldness
But the man's walk with boldness
Is apperently to hold us
For the long deprived hostess
For the rich and unwilling
For the crazed and unfilling
For the weak and unchilling
For the mazed who are speechless
With the sun at the ready
At the cross high assemble
With his hand and such worry
He will tell all his story
And the cross high assemble
Will grumble and gremble
They'll end all his fable
And they sit at their table
All the fat and unable
And they all give the order
For the Cross High Assemble
Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 528 times
Written on 2007-03-07 at 16:16
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