Blood Moon Tide
If love was chaotic and if thunder was of a mountain how would flood gates matter
If passion was conseal with a look or maybe a babble would word shackle
Turn victory out of stone inheritance the rich of the road
Or perhaps invoking the heaven how like minds take in the patterns
If hell gather held at a gate would words truthly matter
Could one tell the haste of time the pattern of illusion within in time
Voyage of anchor and lost sail of march of men would good wine and
Painting but the sincery of the victory of thought what pleasure among the horn
If time remind you of the word chant it or cup of wine never to be hand it
Put in lungs in bloodline in the sink of time how or do we pay for the
Sin of or counter parts are we the slack of air in tied space or the main
Part of the assumption passion and lies lies together what is dreams come of
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