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Dress My Wounds
par
Mook
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With a cold brown ground I remember A certain fall Mother screams and calls From the sink she saw Me fall, fall, fall She thinks there's blood on my hands But doesn't understand How deep, deep, deep She tries to help me stand But we sink in the sand Neck deep, deep, deep Time grows stale and still When waiting on the pill To dress my wounds in my will Is this blood real? Will I cease to feel? Now there's bareness all around Leaves mask the sound And they fall Mother Earth fades and rusts As her child and us falls, falls, falls Mother doesn't know It's ok to slow down, down, down Yеs, I've dulled and dimmed But thеre's a fire still within Deep down, down, down Time grows stale and still When waiting on the pill To dress my wounds in my will Is this blood real? Will I cease to feel?
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