"Climb
Is all we know
When thaw
Is not below us
No, can't grow up
In that iron ground
Claire, all too sore for sound
Bet
Is hardly shown
Scraped
Across the foam
Like they stole it
And oh, how they hold it
Claire, we nearly forfeit
I... i'm growing like the quickening hues
I... i'm telling darkness from lines on you
Over havens fora full and swollen morass, young habitat!
All been living alone,
Where the ice snap and the hold clast are known"
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário