Sin by Walter Jones

From out of the black I came to stay
A victum of my soul I just wanted to play
In fields of flowers made the way
From over the places of curds and whey

May the tribute to the son and fish
We are the vitals signs of this
No purpose to be so damn free
Stable full still a mare runs for a fee

Cobblestone is but a bounce in ride
Killer of the wayside is a new pride
In able voice the bastard make his stand
Hand down they kills the roadside man

Cleft of foot in honor well as the bloke is off this hell
Market to the queen and angels scream
Lord of light and lord of night play the same
One wins the hearts of men the other the name

Craft of markers in the square leave a body cold there
No pleasure is left of body try and fear is in her loving eye
A catch of truth bears her soul for all to view
Oft the head of the innocence in you

Burden layer in a bed of nails
Fish fly across a portion sailed
Molly takes the road traded best
In anger I take the one travel less

Shanty we role the die one last time
Clothes divided with the last of sour wine
Mirth of birth is left on stage
Riot in the town is now all the rage

Call me a winner here but the tank leaves not a single tear
Belly lays upon the turret well as the driver sends the lot to hell
Squish of the bodies here can not see sour wines is free
Crispy critters as eh kids go up in flames
Burned beyond any names

And the fishes and the wine all look the same
Souls lost in the view of some religilous gain
The daddy empties his gun they kill the daughter while raping the son
Master of the fate of man devil in the brew understands

Chain of iron broke before its time lord takes back the wheels of brine
Standing in the field of death I claim all that are mine

As the body parts fill the air and the seven maidens turn out to be missing hair
And the river comes goes for the driver of the barge with time has become an old

One coin above each eye, a pretty one beneath the tongue wonder how it is dead man bite some one
In the quill of writers script a teary eyed faith is found as the crooked little path find solace in the ground

Rail in rally said and the coffin of the living becomes the bed of the dead
Head bowed low serrated from the body she said and madam Guillotine claims another face
Oh how I love this creature of the human race

Last upon the wave and the quest of forever gave forth a person to save
In the Angle of cheer we kept the faith and stayed just one more year

Ah yes the smell of death captured in the cycle of burning fear

Prose-n-Poetry.com

Sin
by Walter Jones (Age: 63)
copyright 06-09-2006

Age Rating: 13 to 127

Prose-n-Poetry.com

Sin by Walter Jones (Age: 63) copyright 06-09-2006 Age Rating: 13 to 127

Sin
by Walter Jones (Age: 63)
copyright 06-09-2006

Age Rating: 13 to 127