With blazing saddles, the midnight moon,
Beckons you to this very room,
Where sex and pills will take its toll,
On the lifestyle we have stole.
Like swimming in a hurricane,
My conscience ought or not the same,
As running in a burning field,
Hark the angel cries to yield.
Temptation borne and died with age,
As virtue to the vice,
Slowly turn the books last page,
As the sun shall freeze to ice.
Utter the words as soft as felt,
As my heart melts.
As my memory locked,
As an eternal clock.
Ticking for eternal time,
Of virtues fine.
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Comments1
Morals change for good and bad with time. A lovley write
Thank you
Most welcome
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