Deeds of whether, in moist eyes
The problem we detain, is your terror...
Intended of weary and cold shoulders, a cough of lives
In waiting, your presence of many and mind, to compare...

Salt of an ought, sweet of demand?
Substitute me, for a question to land
A privilege in the renown I produce, with a babes hand?
The question we threat, we sigh is a different peace to challenge

Spare significance, to a worldly stare
In a patient craving, for the ecstasy of a wish
The children of spite, notice an answers care
Does to due, and dread in doles of since...

Does this dragon, this wage of responsibility...
Owe me, the duty in a climbing avarice, solemn
For a stranger voice to prove, the irony of a vague city
Sorry, but no wish in the rage of riches, is a subtlety to keep the wind...?

An ancient boat, with a right to find the better...
The creation of worth in the mysterious hands of compliance
Have stepped forward, with a soapy smile, poison to the letter?
We understand your worlds, your chastity has another lie:

Known knowing a wish for the very vanity you espoused
Is a dead angel, if the rain is to be our friend?
Where the hell is your soul? your chance came and housed
Yours, a soul obvious to life, but not even love has one to spend...

Tarts...
And the worth of a woman to deliver the news, to you
Not me, an original silence of domain, that shewed the infant for smarts
In the name of a careful rest and duped relaxation, a quiet coup
Come of age, with your specialness in mind; do women in love feed scars?