Oh sweet child oh
endearing light to whom may I
direct this
Snow is falling in lightning flash
In the morning we wake
No bodies move, their colours spill in gutters
In my chest
We
Wicked mystery come in clouds of falling leaves
That ushers in
Walking through the seasons
seems so tiring
The air stirs in low
It's getting late
The streets are empty
The buildings spark and then
We move slow, we move slow
Feel this cold, feel this
St. Francis fumbled in the dark
Up the stairs and down
Give me some loving
'Cause I've been thinking about dying
Under heavy
If I could see past these trees
that stand like sticks
I’ve noticed the way that I tug this string too
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