⠀⨵ ⠀ 𝗳𝗼𝗹𝗸𝗹𝗼𝗿𝗲

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝓣ime has changed the metaphor ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝓝ow, dust is not the origin of bone ⠀ 𝓛ittle girl, don't let them sell you any armor ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝓐ll your ribs are still your own ⠀ ⠀

⠀⨵ ⠀ 𝗰𝗼𝘆𝗼𝘁𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝓞n the broken backs of all the ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀words we spared ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ 𝓛ike little soldiers in the trenches ⠀ ⠀⠀ 𝓘t was a march we made towards ruin ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ and despair ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝓑ut we held hands all the while ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀⨵ ⠀ 𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽, 𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗯𝗼𝗿𝗲𝗱

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝓦hen the wool is off your eyes ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝓨ou'll stop counting sheep at night ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝓒ause you'll eat your fill of them during ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝓣he daytime ⠀ ⠀

⠀⨵ ⠀ 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗼𝗹 𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗲𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗴𝗼𝘄𝗻

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝓑undle up, darlin' ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝓨ou're on your own now ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝓢easons change as they do ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝓜aybe I'll see you ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝓦hen your shiverin' is through ⠀