The Careful Ones
Lake Winona
Hold my own I won't, I won'tPull the rope to keep close, keep closeWon't you carefully rest, place your hand on my chestI see myself an old man, an old manWith arms painted blue black, blue blackHarvest of plans with your frame leaned backThe lake was filled with light, with lightA spark you heard from inside, insideAnd it called you near, erased my fears for the nightWon't you make your home with me in my arms?You were made from my bones, for me, for my arms
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