The world's warmth in the grace of your mother's belly. Expectancies of life, but there's now way of telling. Oh to adapt as my own living organism. Communicate through words of what-have-yous and isms. Keep me in the womb if the sun burns. Underneath the softest of hen wings, you never learn. As I expect this fabricated love to fade. You'll weave my threaded mind through the knots of your braid. When winter comes and this dead still lake freezes over. I'll need your bodies heat even that much closer. Keep me in the womb if the sun burns. Underneath the softest of hen wings, you never learn. Unconditional blankets. Like a mothers embrace. A perpendicular tear falls. Off the brightest of faces. Keep me in the womb if the sun burns. Underneath the softest of hen wings, you never learn.
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