Windmill
The dictionary can't describe a simple word like "love"Without statistics, lies, and propoganda on the side
I love you and you love me, there's nothing left to say
Except I hope your eyes can blink away the sand and open wide
For texture is the rage with cataclismic clinic cliques
Ticktocking clocks and summer stalks can gambol lively fox
Tip of hat and roses fat, your shanking lovers dream
Befell the wicked, sorrowful, and merciless obscene
I bow a humble servants to your grace and to your will
You may be soft as northern winds, but I stand fast as mill
Spill the sature
Spill the nautre
Kill the time and kill the fature
Your constant renovations
And your slimy declarations
Have a constant sinner's patience
Rapture, tap the window, love your brother, hate your daughter, call the housewife, love o nother, nother o
Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 693 times
Written on 2007-06-13 at 08:12
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