THE TEMPLE
we live in a world not unlike this
all our own on our own
dodging crossfire
like bubbles in a machine
bubbles in a drum
pens paper spin
our past is
crouch
crouching low
in the swedenborg of cold
he chisels makes good
swept by the scents
and outside there is blackjack
the learns of the japanese
the fine line signs that echo
as black inks black
jazz inks jazz
he hunts
stops
for the
we live in a world not unlike this
all our own on our own
dodging crossfire
like bubbles in a machine
bubbles in a drum
pens paper spin
our past is
crouch
crouching low
in the swedenborg of cold
he chisels makes good
swept by the scents
and outside there is blackjack
the learns of the japanese
the fine line signs that echo
as black inks black
jazz inks jazz
he hunts
stops
for the