The Womb Must Be a Spaceship
The womb must be a spaceship.
A fuselage of stars.
The fuss of all new mothers
who's astronaut's are ours.
Each toddler with a mission
to rocket into space.
Where drives to leave the planet
grow on for our disgrace.
The welcome to our planet
that all new enfants show.
The tolpier' of living
that all regurge below.
A need to be in space
between what we dont' know.
The comfort of belonging
teased men will boldly go.
Our cosmonache to space
we'll all belong someplace.
The rest from other's womb light
that all our babies face.
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