across a cobblestone path
inspired by a tannin wrath
pinot noir
beautiful guys
beautiful girls
I'm in awe
I don't know what old poets say
I don't even reckon their way
cause my verse churn
while the dead bury
their own dead
and the classics burn
you want a canon
come and take it
no legacy's harvest is ate by the tiller
nor is it preserved by the one who's the killer
