Baying
Your persona drifts
trailing, thoughts heady with desire;
in your wake,
in your dancing, fleet of foot;
eyes, rest upon your face
sounds; the hounds are baying
Your blood, soon
to be fresh upon their lips
Your persona drifts
trailing, thoughts heady with desire;
in your wake,
in your dancing, fleet of foot;
eyes, rest upon your face
sounds; the hounds are baying
Your blood, soon
to be fresh upon their lips
This site uses only functional cookies that are essential to the operation of the site. We do not use cookies related to advertising or tracking. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.
