These pastels have gotten paler
You refuse to pale in comparison
And somehow this song
Makes it personal
Makes it orbital
Makes French sirens
Sound like butterfly wings
I’m a tourist
As I mend the stitching of your soul
You lose control
An exotic vacation
No beaches needed
As we disco dance
In a trance of city lights
Resounding from the cove
Of secret species’ who
Never do as their told
My body still aches
But I killed a prehistoric fish today
All is well if you keep
Sticking me with pins
I’ve had the needles
I’ve had a phallus
To suspend all their malice
Yet I still breathe warm-blooded
And cold
Prick me before I prick you
Survival of the fittest A’s & E’s
My seed is your worst enemy
My seed is your worst enemy