Song From The Womb

I was told that sunlight would impregnate us in the morning

Not before sending us back into our mother’s womb

Here it’s full of black and white photographies

Paganism made out of plagiarism

Creation is but a dream for a child in its mother’s womb

The walls are made of sunlight and I feel my skin is burning

Not only that but I’m starting to feel uncomfortable

My teeth are full of cavities, all I see is black in the white

Realism makes you forget the symbolism

Creation is a dream made out of her perfume

Our mother’s soul, our mother’s womb

Now I lay down my head and write about black and white mornings

Sunlight brought us brand new paganism

Walls made of burning skin and a child

Uncomfortably real and the symbolism is now lost

I’d like to dream about life back in the womb

But creation is something I was told would impregnate us all in the end