to stand in the shadow of the wound mark in the air
may i see if someone is alive by gobbling his come
short my little lambs
still to slow
to stand in the shadow of the wound-mark in the air
so tell us mother wendy, what are you wanting more?
smell dead rose dead rose smell rose smell dead, dead smell
spell its name?
and if my thought dreams could be seen they'd probably put my head inside a guillotine
boys have a thousand muscles to wriggle with
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