Brown is our promise
Spoken like a true champ
Till a height of a comely vice
Has the spark of intuition, claimed and

See the little knuckles
To remember the tone of our voice
Shrewd difference, and its wishes in the wills
Of a new friend, that has the embarrassment of choice

Golden is our heed
The truth in a riddling portion
To save the irony of succor, which even is with eaves
And the excuse of enlightenment, to understand worse sin's

Save the music, break the wind
For a melancholy doubt, the indigency of verse
Left to wiser investment, asking a particular kin
Is a road to hindrance, the only way a cough can see, the universe?