Terrible and hysterical season of Grace where peace is a must and death a bitter taste
Sunday mornings of Faith
And saving face
My,
Goodness.
O'
Since the gathering of foes coincided with the love we transposed
Ever since the envy of countless ghosts
Was exposed
I stood alone.
&
Yet had I learned sooner to cock my big ego to the side which perhaps might of averted my eyes long enough to view the miracle faster
I could have loved you
Better.
