Incubuss
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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."
