Every Christmas we return
To the place where we were born
Called back by everything we touched
To forget everything we've known
And slip back into our mother's womb
As she walks through the crowded town
For a few moments we go back
To the comfort of being unborn
Not yet anything the world
Has ever known as if
We left something behind
That could link us to a crime
Some face we overlooked
That must be our own
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