Cause we don't have a chance, us two,
but we have a million all the same.
Some of us were just tapped,
with the tip of his ungodly slate-black pencil.
And we are the ones left to fight winter,
tooth and fist. Ivory and clutch.
If i even think about laying on my arms,
they fall numb. Fall asleep.
Take off to Nod.
Hug the thought of comas.
Lay the dogsleep down.
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