From the East
Things will be stolen
You will need to grow up too fast
You will see the white cliffs of Dover
You will anticipate the end of the world

I've even prayed about it
You're my star

You will get into small places
Your feet will crumble beneath you

Birth control
Lace
Lip balm
Neck kisses
I am here; soft, lost, a little dead
You are the foundation of my house