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Roll the dice.

Its fire and ice.

You dig a round

Right in the ground.

 

Roll over now, and kisses leave

Not on the mouth, but on the sleeve.

Pull the sheet up past your waist

Your fragile finger bones encased.

 

Roll the dice.

Its fire and ice.

You dig a round

Right in the ground.

 

Bury the book. Can’t you see

There’s dirt on the page of you an’ me?

Brush the crumbs away and still

A stain it leaves. Yes, it will.

 

Roll the dice.

Its fire and ice.

You dig a round

Right in the ground.

 

A ring we’ve made, but not of gold.

I still reach out your hand to hold.

Whatever lies before us now,

We don’ know it’ll work out somehow.

 

Roll the dice.

Its fire and ice.

You dig a round,

Right in the ground.

You roll a round,

Right in the ground.

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