TenCentArcade
11-28-2004, 06:07 AM
It’s spoken through stingy sage that
Sulfur shores were formed by a
Constant river of gin and scotch
Flowing through a desirous heart
Lost among the calamity of passion and
The two-ton secrets of solemnity
Forever existing, no longer sure
Of their own mutuality
It’s been said that one could find
Beneath the chandelier graveyards
A criminal of disasters, a jester for
The final page-turning machines
Sought among the simplicity of insolence
And the stripes along the jaw-lines
Of the breeding grounds, this soil
Isn’t out to stud quite yet
It’s been seen through the thinnest eyes
Of the scourging scores of scowlers
That the heart of Saturday nights
Are littered with the hearts of minds
Caught among the shrill desires of
The callow children believing
In their insolence, yet they
Aren’t the furious end of death
Sulfur shores were formed by a
Constant river of gin and scotch
Flowing through a desirous heart
Lost among the calamity of passion and
The two-ton secrets of solemnity
Forever existing, no longer sure
Of their own mutuality
It’s been said that one could find
Beneath the chandelier graveyards
A criminal of disasters, a jester for
The final page-turning machines
Sought among the simplicity of insolence
And the stripes along the jaw-lines
Of the breeding grounds, this soil
Isn’t out to stud quite yet
It’s been seen through the thinnest eyes
Of the scourging scores of scowlers
That the heart of Saturday nights
Are littered with the hearts of minds
Caught among the shrill desires of
The callow children believing
In their insolence, yet they
Aren’t the furious end of death