Liveandletlove

Could you hold of a nation, with just a glance? Have you wooed the suiters with a singular dance? And in the darkest hour, when we gently sleep, do you defend the oceans, for those too meak? A shadow of a whisper, from those who dream. A world so hindered, Sewn together at the seems. A craving light, for a lonesome sight. Sunrise needs rotation, and with weary eyes, here comes salvation, roaring from the skies. Like a charging moutain, armed and feared, and true completion, you humbly neared. Alas, a river flowed, one deeply red, you chose this road, in your zeal you fed. No dawning forever, no freedom is found, tw

Determined by the ever raging liars, the painter weaves his strokes. Dancing colors cross his mind as we put him down. Imaginative wonders his murals are. Scorned by the untouched. All his days are coated in reds and blues. Another madman in the news. Still he brushes on for none other than his craving. Artistic melodies and ragmeat stews. Neverending, never dying, his urge to brush. And yet no hero's come to rush. In the end, death is not in vain. For a painter who's far from sane. A million dollar piece, for a billon dallar soul. The madman painter Vincent Van Gogh.

There is a sunset in her eyes, a pure sort of magnifisence. The liars toungue decieves, but the loner's heart believes. A new start in an age of rythmic harmony. A dance in the dawn of october, where no one foot has set. A wildfire that burns so peacefully. It consumes the attentions, and replies with intentions. Yet the sky belongs to us all, and no truth comes with summerfall. A sunset for none but one.