Someone is calling her shorewards
Much likes horses
Raising dogs will sing to me
Hold back the tears in my comfort
We will forward in these pauses
The storm corrodes

Maps of a lift to the scaffold
On a nursery floor
Begs aloud not to stay
Cut from the stone in the quarry
This old friend of mine in his silence
The storm corrodes

Passed on the second hand slips outwards
Born in the curve the song drips endless
Thrown out the boy believes the secret
Grown up the dogs begin to reach it

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