Eva

Is this how we iniciate, our inventive best, when we twist and fake, open every door, ask for proper sustenance, wake up sore, fuelled by what we take, behave like all the rest, sinking to negotiate, fools sing for applause, faith our last bequest, two and two make four, the night's cool probate, provides a gentle whisper, hurt comes at walking pace, the drunken poor, beg us for presents, they leave open the door, searching for fame, scattering inocence, rushing us away, lost on the sacraments.