Los Niños de Atocha

We hear preach of unconditional love

but slip into your basket

our little thorns

we nag and sweetly

chide but softly

We write preach of unconditional love

and swear to it

upon our soul

then spank or curse or yell

or  threaten

or hold you captive while

we whisper preach of unconditional love

and can you hear what we say

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