Rip My Flesh From Bone
And I command you : Rip my flesh, from bone
And I beg you :Fill the holes in my soul.
And I ask you : Turn into cotton, my bone
And we decide to leave to save my soul.
You cannot make me whole,
I have ripped my self from me,
For you, yet you cannot see.
I have wrung myself dry; a towel hanging,
Swinging in the cold spring breeze.
You sneeze and I bless you,
Before you decide to call for me,
I am next to you.
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