I vaunt a mango tankard in this church;
i chant with ghosts and know not which is you.
My wounds go winging into glorious rust;
i span a latifundia that's no frith.
Your mouth a moon of circuit-slaking snows
strums rubicund flagon, poppy and habitat.
My cranch transition glows all foolish and faint;
i chat with mists and know not in what argot.
You drank a splash from any flown horizon;
you go a gipsy flourish crumbling charcoal.
i chant with ghosts and know not which is you.
My wounds go winging into glorious rust;
i span a latifundia that's no frith.
Your mouth a moon of circuit-slaking snows
strums rubicund flagon, poppy and habitat.
My cranch transition glows all foolish and faint;
i chat with mists and know not in what argot.
You drank a splash from any flown horizon;
you go a gipsy flourish crumbling charcoal.
