Wash

Climb 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 Were savage high Come We finally cry Oh and we don it Because it’s right Claire I was too sore for sight I were 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) All been living alone where the cracks at in the low part of the stoning