He holds her like a bagpipe,
Her breath ripping across his palm.
He feels for the door
Where children stormed angry into life,
And she kisses him.
“It’s nice,”
She said
Then she fled
And then she fled
He felt for the cover
That had kept them alive
In the days when giants
Were crushed in ice
Crushed in the ice
Crushed in the ice
Outside the new world.
“It’s nice,”
She said
Then fled
Back to the old world
Far outside
Far outside of the Western plain
Far outside
Far outside of the Western plain
He felt for the cover
That had kept them alive
the cover that had kept them alive
in the new world
In the the new world.
He holds her like a bagpipe,
Her breath ripping across his palm.
He feels for the door
Where children stormed angry into life,
And she kisses him.
“It’s nice,”
She said
Then fled
He holds her like a bagpipe,
Her breath ripping across his palm.
He feels for the door
Where children stormed angry into life,
And she kisses him.
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