Falling Up
greying morning
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So these things will grow
Faster when weâre cold
Itâs slow love
Every mercyâs new
When weâre worn and used
Itâs slow love
Like beggars in the greying morning
These needful hands are reaching for you
Weâre beggars bought by suffered gold
We want what little love we hold
So these plans will fall through
When the years build on you
But thereâll be slow love
Cause we are broke and older
Numbed and stumbling over your love
We want what little love is slow