Ice Curates Flowing Tresses

Deadly Foe, Surrender Yourself

Ice Curates Flowing Tresses
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A man cannot see himself in others. Therefore, his rage burns up his heart. Fortitude brings forth an escapade filled with dreams. However, darkness is his reality. He walks amongst the dead.

Ice curates flowing tresses.  For the mountain climbed saturates the heart with fire during defaulting laws excavated around heated burdens.

You hold yourself in high esteem; yet, blindly walk forth in fierce pits.

Deadly foe, surrender yourself before light, or else be dealt your misguided hand.  For it is you who shall bleed.

Incubate your temperament in holistic waters, if the weight you carry rams your barrel.

Only the winded can see truth.  However, visage behold you burning arrow.  It shot through the heart, and your to blame.  The damage is done.  Your song is sung.

Let your flame unburden itself.  For I bring forth the morning train.

Cheerish holy light seeping in your veins.  May it burn up you being.  Take a ride in dusty trails.  Where you end your journey is left at will.  

For the hours fade into days, and days fade into years.  However, I am not owing to you.  My heart belongs to me.  This pipeline is down.  

Let me not to the marriage of a greater fire. Let love not waste in your grave, but execute thought.  If the fetes allow, sing unto the sea.  For the design of the heart shall follow.  

If temperament be winded, dive into the Lord's harbor.  Bleed into me.  



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