He stands firm and solid
Barricaded, blocked and shattered
No face of fear, senses battered
Chiseled of stone and a few extra bones
His statuesque stance draws her in
Hands of fate, frightful fate
She fell unto her knees
Growing weary waiting
She picks at his feet, he's rooted.
When the rains come, the vines will grow
"Just try to move your feet!" she cries.
She stands up to help him move
Grabs him by the hand
He quickly turns to sand
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