sigvertutank

Too wierd to live, too rare to die.

Shredded remains of a supernova.

And in the spring I shed my skin and it blows away with the changing wind.

This is a gift it, comes with a price, who is the lamb and who is the knife?

Turns me to gold in the sunlight.

My boy builds coffins, he builds them all day, but it's not just for work and it isn't for play.

One of these days he'll make one for you.