Sunday, 9 May 2010
The Sorrow Lands
Born with bloody hands are the people of these lands,
The inherence of hypocrisy is the truth of the
downtrodden in tender times,
Majorities of silence speak in tongues of twisted
cries from the single eye,
Skulls scorned hidden in shadows crushed under
carpets of corruption,
Whilst the only fed desire is to acquire the
only outcome is to
In my name, I think not.
The inherence of hypocrisy is the truth of the
downtrodden in tender times,
Majorities of silence speak in tongues of twisted
cries from the single eye,
Skulls scorned hidden in shadows crushed under
carpets of corruption,
Whilst the only fed desire is to acquire the
only outcome is to
In my name, I think not.
Thursday, 6 May 2010
Hidden by Vincent
Strokes of genius tender tense eyes in brushed skies,
Trees of Cypress surrounded by swirls purple moons,
Summers of yellow drank into departed ears,
Sunflowers n doctors sit for hands of King makers,
The mind of torment thought the world to see.
Trees of Cypress surrounded by swirls purple moons,
Summers of yellow drank into departed ears,
Sunflowers n doctors sit for hands of King makers,
The mind of torment thought the world to see.
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