Nothing here

Nothing is stolen that you can't get back anyway 
Along the fate of vines twisted I come back to you
Mother to womb 
Room too soon
Moving away to face the grave 
Alone as contrast 
Strikes the bones
We are frozen
Like mummies or so were told 
Act graceful what weapons 
Do we hold 
Keeping time with the abstractions 
Not interested in sleeping over 
Undercovers left unsatisfied 
So she cried but it wasn't enough for you
To stay warm here