The Seven Regrets of Peter

Run to catch your own sun, and never mine.
Run to make me forget what you looked like, before ourselves.
Run further south,
I forgot you and my dreams sat on a plane to Indonesia.
Mary gave away eyes and bread for the occident.

Sand comes along,
a sword and a shield holds a saint's body.

Reject me, bodily bite from the blackest berry.
The blackest berry holds the prize.

Forgive Luke, forgive the Gospel as I don't want to seek for gold inside our native mountain.
But wherever you're going Mary's eyes swim in sequins.

I assumed differently.
Three more nights faced the moon.
Bollywood nights, and blood melts with the river.