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Am. C. G. AmI Am my mother's savage daughter
The one who runs barefoot
Cursing sharp stones
I Am my mother's savage daughter
Am. EI will not cut my hair
G. AmI will not lower my voice
Am. C. G. Am1. My mother's child is a savage
She looks for her omens in the colors of stones
In the faces of cats, in the falling of feathers
Am. EIn the dancing of fire
G. AmIn the curve of old bones
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2. My mother's child dances in darkness
She sings heathen songs
By the light of the moon
And watches the stars and renames the planets
And dreams she can reach them
With a song and a broom
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