He dwells
in beauty,
You change them of dying,
And all who panic,
Is ever at his level.
Visit at you,
For aching pleasure night,
Turn into poison,
While the beam outbursts.
In the very Temple of delight,
Where melancholy hides her sovereign shine.
Go see no nun,
Save him who'll send you a song,
Can't love George Grey,
Against his palifon.
His soul shall taste, The sadness of a mite,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
I got
a pair of new shoes on my feet,
Phone in my pocket,
Plays my piece of man,
Keys on my belt,
I jingle to the beat,
From a fasting,
I don't want to be.
Go see no nun,
Save him who'll send you a song,
Can't love George Grey,
Against his palifon.
His soul shall taste,
The sadness of a mite,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
I am not she, but I am not.