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The hammer beneath your pillow
There to smash the head of your prince
When it turns back into a pumpkin
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The hammer beneath your pillow
There to smash the head of your prince
When it turns back into a pumpkin
When did you stop to answer The echo of her heart When did you let the cankered root Of her name rip like a rotten tooth That you chained to a piece of floss– As once you listened for the faint shadow Or rumor of voice to step from some... Continue →