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Pseudonym · 26-30, M
On winter trees the fruit of rain
Is hanging trembling in the branches
Like a thousand diamond buds
And waiting there in every pause
That old familiar fear that claws you
Tells you nothing ain't no good
Then pulling back you see it all
Down here so laughable and small
Hardly a quiver in the dirt
This ain't no love that's guiding me.
Is hanging trembling in the branches
Like a thousand diamond buds
And waiting there in every pause
That old familiar fear that claws you
Tells you nothing ain't no good
Then pulling back you see it all
Down here so laughable and small
Hardly a quiver in the dirt
This ain't no love that's guiding me.