Arms And Bones

Arms are dug forever, armies of winter,
Winter is upon us like the guns of power;
Almost a lost person enters the arena,
To make blessings on us from the angels.

Attractive senses are lying on the surface,
Animals of the rain wander in this body colour,
With bodices of fur, and skin and rain,
Like swimmers of the muddy rivers.

Reason is a lie, reason is not ready for me,
Loathing the bones of stretching kind.