Leather Rites

Eight years Out to eighty-eight in a spout,

the pour of line to a circle in infinity is,

888 A Bout signs showing belief is loud.

The mathematical digital frame in a brain,

the skit to the skipping of words in no blame,

signals the Mind that the muscle of train,

comes in to the boots of leather in pane.

Spur to the strap of heeled in reins,

buckles to let the twist not remain,

simply on top of the mounting of horse,

saddled for grips in forceful courts.

Trips are not jumps to banks that drop through,

for in the course of country it's do,

the eminent bet to set of the skew,

is shrimping the Nets of already spooned.

Handle the beast with more in release,

the Rogue does do best when kept to the test,

communication in silent rapport works for hoarse,

it's all between the legs of course.

Stature to built by design I know fine,

kept to the denims of a particular kind,

showing the you in the City type move,

not in indifference protection is phew.

So bound yourselves to lurid tells,

with nothing only the bending in bells,

the clang of the after before d a clapping,

sharp to the Coats and Tails of laughing.

Product the kind to a rouge in a spine,

cruelty is never the back of a prime,

face to face structure is doves with a pine,

swooning to character not the World in a Vine.

Thorns to the Crowns of hater's and sounds,

that selling of hatred to bracket the downed,

I will not ascribe to such terrors in stares found,

'cause I do know some things need to be proud,

in flesh and bone not buried beneath in a 6ft deep.