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William Patrick Corgan
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Amarinthe
It brays, it slays, it neighs at most when fleet
Adorned by morns and may, I spak my peace
But tugged along any dray colt
Sups his flowered seas
Where daft desires the feathers out of mines
Fly all but time here
Take what you had
Yet I can't vouch for what's real or false on that
This trail of tears we've blacked
So sudden, cold morning, slow
Cool morning, so sudden, slow
Cool morning, slow
Vouchsafed it rains, it rails, yes love reeks
From sails it turns to toasts, and I kick my keep
And starved we'll mother the other
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Parsing one of each
Whence twined desires and gingham clementines
Fly all but time here
Think what you had
But I can't vouch for what's real or false on that
This trail of tears we've blacked
So sudden, cold morning, slow
Cool morning, so sudden, slow
So sudden, cold morning, slow
Cool morning, so sudden, slow
Cool morning, slow
Cool morning, slow
Cool morning, slow
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