Infinite whispers communicate well
within the Biblical Hotel.
All of the lizards are sleek as time,
forgetting the rhyme.
The parody of peace,
its stylings in rhythmic rain.
There’s a smell to say.
There’s a sound to see.
There’s a touch to hear.
Your life is an experiment.
Your life is an experiment.
Honor & mercy go through this wind stormed mind.
The saintly canons urge restraint from the final blow.
The hour is reluctant,
being most inhuman.
to decide,
to decide endless fate, whether morbid or beautiful.
Calling all colors.
Calling all to safety,
exercising honor & mercy.
Prayers come across as musical notes.
Fly, Angel, fly...
Fly, Angel, fly...