Life our bowl of fountain lust

Life our bowl of fountain lust,        in you all men are down with flu and paste lost,

fanged and pushed sore as with the Egyptian sword

Life our bowl of fountain lust, hold and hurled, yet never in your baffling memory float away the impermeable truth, that we are your totem and you our tote’ tor

Life our bowl of fountain lust,   your overwhelming hands had thus the introduction of man weighed barbarously upon us

Our delicate hide by your hot light of day transcendence, torn and softened like the skin of seventh broiled swines

Give me a possibility I should your forces withhold, time and lines changed twice in spins

How no-limit are you, Life our fountain lust? On us up you spring and down you swing but ever hang still

O’ that you had the golden length   of our breath measured in mire expectations transpire

Go there a night of rest from you, Life our bowl of fountain lust

I might your being tore in two, and never will your days regret

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Author: Bluemagic

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