And we are like two children Sitting on the swinging bench Ebbing for the lift a little harder A little faster, knees bruised push hard Our feet bare...
Into him I gave the warmth that was a continuum Yet under my lust was an obscuration by despotism I wanted to retrace what seemed fired by orthodoxy...
You have been lost and every hand that welcomes you is the symbol of distrust. Perhaps it is something you have noticed, a pattern, a familiar theme...