I have not found a descent answer 
to an infuriated cause 
like a scepter of farewells, 
decaying with the slip of a stone. 

Ghouls have a prophetic meaning 
when the jade fills with glow 
wench of invaluable innings 
claiming wrecks below a blow. 

Every man has lost his spirit 
to the fight that carries on 
Sometimes you got to let heedless scheming 
possess the unilateral artifice and a hoax. 

Understanding was not wise 
when I heard you screaming 
like a griffon of revolt 
diving to the next class of reason 
Impaling the tale fixed like a wound.

Every man has lost his spirit 
and every woman has lost her hound. 
Needless of a wink that might hurt a screech 
like an aptitude of peace towards the fall.