A summer afternoon can kill. with unsheathed shafts of molten light lanced towards the hills. And could capriciously, just as easily, not. But rather, scent the morning by leaf's dew. For the spark of revolution lies within ((I am depressed at the discerning lack of people who caught that Les Mis reference...))
( I am depressed at the fact that I don't really know what you are talking about? Les Miserables? ) A summer afternoon can kill. with unsheathed shafts of molten light lanced towards the hills. And could capriciously, just as easily, not. But rather, scent the morning by leaf's dew. For the spark of revolution lies within the cold relevation that sinks tonight
((Yes.)) A summer afternoon can kill. with unsheathed shafts of molten light lanced towards the hills. And could capriciously, just as easily, not. But rather, scent the morning by leaf's dew. For the spark of revolution lies within the cold relevation that sinks tonight With restlessness your heart doth fill
A summer afternoon can kill. with unsheathed shafts of molten light lanced towards the hills. And could capriciously, just as easily, not. But rather, scent the morning by leaf's dew. For the spark of revolution lies within the cold relevation that sinks tonight With restlessness your heart doth fill the emptiness our mirth had hold.
A summer afternoon can kill. with unsheathed shafts of molten light lanced towards the hills. And could capriciously, just as easily, not. But rather, scent the morning by leaf's dew. For the spark of revolution lies within the cold relevation that sinks tonight With restlessness your heart doth fill the emptiness our mirth had hold. Tis the night I must be bold,
A summer afternoon can kill. with unsheathed shafts of molten light lanced towards the hills. And could capriciously, just as easily, not. But rather, scent the morning by leaf's dew. For the spark of revolution lies within the cold relevation that sinks tonight With restlessness your heart doth fill the emptiness our mirth had hold. Tis the night I must be bold, shakespearian words could never describe
A summer afternoon can kill. with unsheathed shafts of molten light lanced towards the hills. And could capriciously, just as easily, not. But rather, scent the morning by leaf's dew. For the spark of revolution lies within the cold relevation that sinks tonight With restlessness your heart doth fill the emptiness our mirth had hold. Tis the night I must be bold, shakespearian words could never describe The insanities within ones own mind
A summer afternoon can kill. with unsheathed shafts of molten light lanced towards the hills. And could capriciously, just as easily, not. But rather, scent the morning by leaf's dew. For the spark of revolution lies within the cold relevation that sinks tonight With restlessness your heart doth fill the emptiness our mirth had hold. Tis the night I must be bold, shakespearian words could never describe The insanities within ones own mind For he would have just coined some casual epithet,
