Wherever I travel your body
you are wounding me.
In your moon and dawn
in your star and sun
you are wounding me .
Locked up in the abyss of wells
we do not know to pick up darkness
or just joy
with what you love to joy.
Love is poor people
the other ones
never know
You are wounding him.
you are wounding me.
In your moon and dawn
in your star and sun
you are wounding me .
Locked up in the abyss of wells
we do not know to pick up darkness
or just joy
with what you love to joy.
Love is poor people
the other ones
never know
You are wounding him.
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