| Morning when she curtains
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| reveal an infant lay
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| Before the day breaks the
|
| gods with its backbone in the soil
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| Let me reach my fingers
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| up to touch your face
|
| Before words like bricks and mortar
|
| rebuild the structures of the day
|
| Let my pure devotion
|
| be refined, in tenants of a face
|
| Statues with teeth and collars
|
| Turn to angels with rays above their brow
|
| When you like thieves and robbers
|
| Break through the systems of the now
|
| Till the skin is built like
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| untarnished I am by the sun
|
| Still these moments keep moving so fast
|
| I can all see them turn to ash
|
| Peering out from the
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| tents we pitched in the woods
|
| Hundreds for the occassion
|
| caught fire like you told me their would
|
| Still these moments keep moving so fast
|
| I can almost see them turn to gold |