Nately's Whore
Ex-Bluelighter
When I hold thus the heart that's in m'hand...
I fear to tread what specs might hold it bland
Now is the winter our syllables Die.
Here is the presence attaining the line.
What horrible reaches my sentiment peaks.
What fantastic passion that lies in my seat.
Here is the presence submitting to dine.
Here is the leper alone in his shrine.
NanoParticulate poisened for good.
Here is the voice that shall prove me no good.
This is the presence that loves a girl.
This be the poem we'll show to her
I fear to tread what specs might hold it bland
Now is the winter our syllables Die.
Here is the presence attaining the line.
What horrible reaches my sentiment peaks.
What fantastic passion that lies in my seat.
Here is the presence submitting to dine.
Here is the leper alone in his shrine.
NanoParticulate poisened for good.
Here is the voice that shall prove me no good.
This is the presence that loves a girl.
This be the poem we'll show to her
