| Tiny darling ghost holder
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| Tiny darling ghost holder
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| You, our soft spirit breather
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| And you, our bark-skinned weaver
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| Remember you could weep fire
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| Remember you could weep fire
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| Remember you could weep fire with wild eyes
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| With wild eyes, ooo those wild eyes
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| If you ring your cells like bells in a garden
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| You plant your burdens way deep down in
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| And water them daily from wells of salty guilt
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| For sons who’d pollinate the deadly
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| That wild eye, ooo that wild eye
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| Papa, my pine whistler sparrow-eyed sun misser
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| Papa, my pine whistler sparrow-eyed moon blisser
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| Mama, my jaw clencher spirit mouth ghost dancer
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| Mama, my vein braider thousand-year bone burner
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| Mama, my tongue twister thousand-pronged antlers
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| Mama, my tongue twister thousand-pronged antlers
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| Mama, my vein braider thousand-pronged antlers, antlers
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| And ooo her wild eyes, ooo her wild eyes
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| So I will ring my cells like bells
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| As you bind your father’s molecules with roots of silver
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| Pierce him cedars with eyes like fingers
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| Picking bloody flowers
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| His wild eyes, ooo his wild eyes
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| Papa, my pine whistler sparrow-eyed sun misser
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| Papa, my pine whistler sparrow-eyed moon blisser
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| Mama, my jaw clencher spirit mouth ghost dancer
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| Mama, my vein braider thousand-year bone burner
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| Mama, my tongue twister thousand-pronged antlers
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| Mama, my tongue twister thousand-pronged antlers
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| Mama, my vein braider thousand-pronged antlers, antlers
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| Ooo her wild eyes, ooo her wild eyes
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| Tiny green moss collector
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| Sweet tiny green moss collector
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| Remember you could catch fire
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| Remember you could catch fire
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| Remember you could catch fire with wild eyes
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| With wild eyes, ooo those wild eyes
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| And once the river is rolling lower
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| We’ll gather lichen from the boulders
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| We’ll keep it dry inside our lockets
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| We’ll put this down down into our pockets
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| We’ll try try to leave the branch arms behind
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| The swaying hands of pines
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| Their needles tugging at your skin
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| Trying to pull you back deep
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| In their wooden womb of a hundred hearts
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| Hanging, suspended, moth-eaten
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| Those muscles the size of your fist
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| All floating around your head
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| Not knowing who they’re a-loving
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| Not knowing how fast they’re a-pumping
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| Not knowing how hard they’re a-beating
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| Not knowing who they’re a-punching
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| Those muscles the size of your fist
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| All floating around your head
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| And throwing punches like we throw the stones
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| To the bottom of riverbeds
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| Who knows who is next?
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| To watch from under the currents
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| The rapids rapidly raging while rapid
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| While we’re rapidly blinking
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| Our wild, wild, our wild
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| Our wild, our wild eyes |