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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 soundBet is hardly shown

Scraped across the foam

Like they stole it

And, oh, how they hold it

Claire, we nearly forfeitI, I'm growing like the quickening hues

I, I'm telling darkness from lines on you

Over havens for a full and swollen morass, young habitat

All been living alone

Where the ice snap and the hold clast are knownHome, we're savage high

Come, we finally cry

Oh, and we don it

Because it's right

Claire, I was too sore for sightI, 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

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