Saint Simon

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After all these implements and text designed by intellects So vexed to find evidently there's just so much that hides And though the saints of us divine in ancient feeding lines Their sentiment is just as hard to pluck from the vine I'm trying hard not to pretend Allow myself no mock defense Step into the night Since I dont have the time nor mind to figure out The nursery rhymes that helped us out and make a sense of our lives The cruel uneventful state of apathy releases me I value them but I won't cry if the time was wiped out I'm trying hard not to give in Battened down to fair the wind Read my head, at least pretend Allow myself no mock defense Step into the night... Mercy's eyes are blue When she places them in front of you Nothing holds a roman candle to The solemn warmth you feel inside There's no measuring of it As nothing else is love I'll try hard not to give in Battened down to fair the wind Read my head, at least pretend Allow myslef no mock defense Step into the night... Mercy's eyes are blue When she places them in front of you Nothing really holds a candle to The solemn warmth you feel inside of you Submitted by Anonymous

Submitted by Anonymous