Gay

All of the times I drove forward, you were not far behind. Lying in circles the chosen have come to be scorned. While the watchers go watching, the blood dried upon their hands. The archers have drawn their last breaths and the battle is over. But the deceivers, believing they could be brought in from the cold Wet wrought iron fences are bleeding their rusted tears. Onto the glass and the stone would we be remiss? To ask God a favor like could you be caught in a lie?