I Confes***it Was You To

Without sound hunting down the eye when shown a grey blistered sky you know it is. Is it you berift of thought blazing trails contrail willowed slinder branched a bright green leaf when free. Thunder blushed a face indiscrace frail distaste bitter on your tounge ink well ran dry. Hundred thousands ask me now millions cast there lots you know tolling of the bell all wonder why. Outside looking in the sin wonder not missgivings when the sun is blazing high into your face. Unto palm of hand you ran O lined of't furrowed did return a favor bought by you to gain my trust. Tender mercies rought from you compassion love was bought with dew tears running down our face.