My son who won’t be born

We won’t hear his cries

The lakes of his eyes won’t reflect…

The sight of our demise…

My love won’t feel his breath on her soft pale breast

He won’t sigh with regret

While making a dirty dime

To pay for his slice of the earthly time

My son who won’t be born

Don’t try to guess his age or crime

He isn’t here

He isn’t of our time

He won’t learn to walk their dirty paths

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