The song sings deep in the realms of her wounds
That is Her inside me, buried.. undiscovered
That is Mother of Everything, singing, curled in a spoon.

I forgot about her for a while there, busy getting flattered
By the brightness of the moon on my cheeks
And the the stars sparkling goose bumps of thoughts feathered
And climbing with excitement towards the shiny peaks

Pressure in my ribs i am bound to find her now..
She has been pulling me down relentlessly
As gravity pulls on spirit to complete it's vow
Some call her self-sabotage that hides the key

I call her the Master, as she stirs the waters so bluntly
A mass of iceberg in the warm sea,
Is bound to raise some unusual movement and free
All these ancient stories long ago pushed aside by me.

She pulls me down, face to face
My whole life buried inside the dirt
Red lava of despair start climbing roots
vibrating deep base liines

Long breathing sap rythms
Breathing with her song
Roots of pain climbing toward the light
To find itself green in love's sight

Now that her song became a tree
I am painting her graceful ways
She's untwisted from the spoon
And came dancing in the moon

With me inside her and her inside me
I am blessed with more colors to splash upon the world
My paint brush like a wich's broom.
caressing the Future with her woumb