Fray the Line

They cut off Ernest’s head and pulled hairs from his head. To tie the towns last legs to amuse thee. To

walk through all the stares and change all that was there. For dime store will and fare just to lose me.

But what’s another loss that stains the cross of time. Why is it just the fit to tear these founding rinds. If it

was just a phase then when’s my rage defined. I’m inclined to fray that line.

There’s murals on the walls and in certain lights they crawl. To attain these battered halls like amused

fleas. A risk to all the tare. For cheap made western wear, that swelled beyond repair to these lewd streets.

But what’s another loss that stains the cross of time. Why is it just the fit to tear these founding rinds. If it

was just a phase then when’s my rage defined. I’m inclined to fray that line.

But what’s another loss that stains the cross of time. Why is it just the fit to tear these founding rinds. If it

was just a phase then when’s my rage defined. I’m inclined…

What happened in this land will surely come again. To east and western bends and then you’ll see. You’ll

see…