Incubuss

"I was just bony hands as cold as a winter pole. You held a warm stone out new flowing blood to hold. Oh what a contrast you were, to the brutes in the halls. My timid young fingers held a decent animal. Over the ramparts you tossed The scent of your skin and some foreign flowers Tied to a brick Sweet as a song The years have been short but the days were long."

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21 novembre 1992

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