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Black Sea
by
Brown Bird
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There’s nothing easy about the love We’ve been swallowed by We picked up our heartless-hearts And we’ll run the dry ‘Til our hands turn black with the blood And our eyes turn red with the fire We lay restless above And it burns the bitter bones Out of my body’s better lies But our better be inslings like timber Of old when we’ll die Whether winds will keep our remnants Whistling with thеm through the skies Or let us go to lay down with thе brine At the bottom of the sea our sorrows will lie ‘Til we climb along toward our undoing Among the fair and fold of this black sea And a cradle awaits of endless sleep
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