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Corbeau
03:37
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I read your bones like a Brautigan poem
Over and over I traced your shoulders
and in the margins I took notes
for your future lovers to discover
I read your bones like prophetic stones
Now I know your secrets
(you can’t change what the ink says)
You were born to be adorned
and I’d die to be buried on your sleeve
Corbeau unbridled
I see the Sun through all your clouds
Not everyone’s as lucky or allowed
I read your bones when no one was home
I’m sorry for the last time
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