Painted faces

Damage found in key and holes
Not sensing eagerly the despair controlled
The future seen at distant throws
When Cupid realized control the goal

Future drift and chaos was
Between the nipples lay the bare
Foot foul in himage care
Lets not be convincing

Cease all control and motion
Getting out of bed tonight
Believing future holds the justice
Napel is clowning away

Fragile spirits hurdled in a mut
Beware those smiling faces
Pretty is the grave indeed
All is well and chaos is dreaming

Beauty is found at the bottom
Bottom is where you laid it still
Found yet not betrayed you must
Fulfill the dancing on graves tonight

Fiddling with a superior fiddler
Between the nipples it was laid bare
Betray not the foul
Care not for foul

Beware those tiny faces
Painted red indeed
Bastards wept before their faces
Tiny indeed

About Emil Hjort

Writer, poet and mysticist.
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