Wash.

Is all we know

When thaw

Is not below us

No can't grow up

In that iron ground

Claire all too sore for sound

Bet

Is hardly shown

Scraped

Across the foam

Like they stole it

And oh how they hold it

Claire we nearly forfeit

I I'm growing like the

Quickening hues

I I'm telling darkness

From lines on you

Over havens fora full and

Swollen morass young habitat

All been living alone

Where the ice snap and

The hold clast are known

Home

We're savage high

Come

We finally cry

Oh and we don it

Because it's right

Claire I was too sore for sight

I we're sewing up through

The latchet greens

I un-peel keenness honey

Bean for bean

Same white pillar tone as with

The bone street sand is thrown

Where she stashed us at

All been living alone

Where the cracks at in the

Low part of the stoning