Precious Arms

Notion of love temper
the swells of vapor soft.
Taste the sweet nectar
press it once more cross.

Take this ribbon forlorn
dieing dead in a storm
send the battle ahead
in precious made form.

Justify me with a word
it paralyzes damn quick.
Fix the nick the wound
I do bandage myself thick.

Take I do this little trip
to the edge of sanity here.
Break does the bow and
your voice is all I hear.

Say nothing my dear
and nothing will be made
from the devils that creep
in between us to persuade.

We can’t stop now little
dove from far up in sky.
I ask and question always
the strength of your alibi.

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