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

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