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Widowspeak

Fir Coat

Firs that grow on their own
they could keep me alive
and when we were alone
it would still feel fine

we're sprawled on the ground
there's grass in my hair
there's no one around
just us and heavy air

firs that grow on their own
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i made a coat for him
and when he was alone
it was part of his skin

but the cold set in
a bite worse than its bark
and now we're just
huddled in the dark