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These My Friends Are The Smallest Bones
A child is born, the instincts grow, here they come,
Let them go, the human instinct is to protect,
Then why is it that I do suspect, a human child went missing today,
But all these young people just walk away,
No one cares, they only stare, and so I go to this child’s side,
A human child, left there to rot,
My heart it weeps, but I can do nothing,
I call for help, but no one answers.
Now I'm alone, with the body.
If we're instinctive to love,
We're instinctive to protect,
Then why is this child, the one who is dead?
Why do we murder, why must we kill?
Why, oh why, was a baby's life left to fail?
This child is not just anyone,
He was taken from his parents,
His family, his friends, this child,
This poor child, who would do this to him?
I already know, that I love this poor child,
Though alive, I never met him, but the instinct stays true,
Because I want to protect him,
Protect his dead body from you.
Yes, I know you mean no harm,
You're here to protect him,
But you don't understand; we have a deep psychological connection.
Please don't hurt my baby; I know that he's now dead,
But now he's my child, and I want him to stay,
So please, while you study him,
Please do so with care,
For my baby, my child, I know, his soul is still there.
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