Gifts of nothing
But, beauty to form an opinion
An avid repose, determined to see your response, wanting...
None is a bounty of all, if curiosity is a care, to lend?

Proud, if not resigned to indignity
A moment to require the world of a decency
Longevity, is a fruitful price, of these we share impunity
With an evenings bird, with peace in mind, for heed...

Of a tow that knew the land like autonomy...
Waged war with the first of tongue and guarantee, like light...
Being the sound mind and duty, in a collective dream...
Strangely ours is a vehicle of destruction, that is our might...

An evenings bird with no eye for beauty?
Has a craving for beginnings and end to least's, lest we become...
A shrewder time, are we to find the curiosity of moods, easy?
Feed me the common chat, with a child of purity to save, them...

Would you...?
Sincerity to venture forth, the colossus of vantage at lost
Mercy's, in the couth we detail, is a world you grew
For me, the irony of ideology in love, with a very careful host

What if...
A little time to report to charisma, is the candor of woes you seek?
Perhaps that child, is a word in the mire; of cause, condition and cease
Knowing what I do, wouldn't the chances sing a new tune, imbued let?

Death, and the fascination of oil under the nose
Where the least effort one can make is to smell, and swallow
Never, in league with a rolling today, that has a lucre to boast...
My name, so proud to savage a quaint tow, that has an hour that certain; I am in love...