Most have my Bearing Hands present in Faith
And always are Heated Dogs tamed and true
Yet if these Swords stab; Score checkers on my face
And see such Love just evolve into you
Heater begets my name; Stock's Rage embed
Past seven dials enough for me to snap
Blame the Drum in me; The Beater pumps dead
Forlorn this Campaign and take a long nap
Whilst such I dream; And Dreams dispel more gum
Long before the Scribe must compile your Creed
With such I chew; And proppled me to mum
Know her silent ****** longs for your need.
My Bearing Hands fail; And fail for a Lie
Pronounced my in-birth; And flickered my eye.