Have you lied in your pride death it gives and the lie it lives

All tat jive stills the wait drag up a vintage and run to fate

Glasses pass for sight into reality dragging fools in grate

Slate peals the skin past the survival of rattle cut deep

Sleep in holes cut for boxes not for faith related stay

Play gets in eyes wet from lived past dribble drown

Fragile soup pressed into pages of bait lingering

Trust pushes leap hungry by page broke cold

Fold corner to keep place and pace recoiled

Snake is just a curse left to stable high

Drunk in chalice turned to hue of piety

Lute washes a heathen review fried

Cried last deal upon need plied

Vent a hole filled with nettles

Sly edit pulls a rest old dried

Heart broke in stein empty

Love of man sighed late

Fate just won a mate

Ground gobbles

Box emptied

For worms

Fishers

Bait