#104 (or Grateful Dead)

Oh! Fill my lungs with mercy, Lord
What this sorrow stands for?
I’ve been here just for a little while,
But my steps won’t mark this floor

It tastes so sweet and sour
The voice starves until the blur
harrows my vision of the fire
Scarecrows with a big smile

My will won’t erase the tracks
for the places you want to go
My blood won’t harm the snow
and my death won’t live in this house
anymore.

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