اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
It’s with this wistful tongue
I spit and murmur
Try to embrace my weight
And withered matter
Weakness is no curse
Will I ever learn
To treasure what I've made?
In your mother’s arms
Or in a hole in the ground
I'm all yours
In distorted light
I pry at rigid doors
And nothing calls
