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