Fineshrine کے بول

Get a little closer, let fold Cut open my sternum, and pull My little ribs around you The rungs of me be under, under you I'll cut the soft pockets, let bleed Over the rocky cliffs that you leave To peer over and not forget what feet are Splitting threads of thunder over me That I might see with my chest and sink Into the edges round you Into the lakes and quarries that brink On all the edges round you, round you Get a little closer, let fold Cut open my sternum, and pull My little ribs around you The lungs of me be crowns over you Get a little closer, let fold Cut open my sternum, and pull My little ribs around you The rungs of me be under, under you I'll cut the soft pockets, let bleed Over the rocky cliffs that you leave To peer over and not forget what feet are Splitting threads of thunder over me Listen closely, closely to the floor Emitting all its graces through the pores You make a fine shrine in me You build a fine shrine in me