The fingers of God, to assemble a choice:
Burden in surviving pockets, look
And see the compliment of decision, a unique voice
With a moment to spare, no, to spend a chance youth

A coin bent to near-never's response...
Was my first time, of vice and its charity?
Somewhere beyond the pale, oddity is a shrewd haunt...
Letting finished thoughts usurp a patience for found daring?

Long times with no professed curiosity?
Saving through with a common enough choice, the tout
Of sincerity versus the severity of quiet, in a god fearing country
Still as stolen liberty's, made to reveal a living fact, for a pout:

Many, did the courage it took...
Lent the silver in a rhyming moon, was my youth a shame?
Known with the lips of love, the tale I speak of, could...
Take the life, of logic and proportion, to a weathered ages name?

The boat done, in a bottle of summation, a service
To witness raging, or speed of special letting
The condition of finality to a remembered patience, we sigh
Is ours for a ghost and an answer, pretty to ides, but death in the setting

Death in a new land
So simple, for a trust to question the better and the letter
But with moments like these, the curiosity in hand
Is ours for a song, the truth of poised hate that has come to these, meaning only fairer?