How Raw Is Life
M
Mark Heathcote
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How raw is life a rope-burn ow…?
Clinging-on, grip slipping…
How often, I’ve had vertigo!
How often, hands have been sore.
How often, tears have been my only frill
How often my hearts ambergris
Has run dry, soul run a stern?
With no port nowhere to anchor or harbour.
How raw is life a rope-burn ow…?
Someone cut me free oh, oh…
Someone break this chain… now
I’ll find my own archipelago.
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