When you are old
Your skin will become like paper,
And your bones will be like the wooden ribs
Of a lantern
So that the world will see the light in your chest.
But I don't need to wait
Because I already know that the light is there.
When you are old
Your skin will become like paper,
And your bones will be like the wooden ribs
Of a lantern
So that the world will see the light in your chest.
But I don't need to wait
Because I already know that the light is there.
I looked up at the statue, and it looked down at me.
There we stood, unhappy wretches.
If we get scared, they have us in their pockets.
If we don't, all they have is blood.
And blood is not a weapon.
From what I remember, it was born growing.
It was born hot, expanding, glowing,
and the people were made of gold
and of fire.
And it kept growing, it kept burning hot, bright,
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