Song | Specimen |
Artist | Unwoman |
Album | Circling |
I am ripe, full, swollen | |
You examine my body where it has fallen | |
You have a habit to feed -- and this fruit | |
Seems like the sweetest poison | |
I am supine, passive, silent | |
I long to be used used in the way I was meant | |
Obscene fertility in casual beauty | |
My blood spilled, my seeds spread | |
This is the natural way | |
I exist for you to evaluate | |
Shat out or systematically bred | |
Or carefully preserved but dead | |
“My God!” I hear your voice, “such an unusual specimen” | |
I am gutted, taxidermy-stuffed, mended, gutted again | |
I am supine, passive, silent | |
I’ve earned my place among men of science | |
My likeness described by poets and painters | |
The jewel of your collection | |
Such an unusual specimen | |
Gutted, stuffed, mended and gutted again | |
To those of independent taste | |
The height of fashion -- perfection! |
I am ripe, full, swollen | |
You examine my body where it has fallen | |
You have a habit to feed and this fruit | |
Seems like the sweetest poison | |
I am supine, passive, silent | |
I long to be used used in the way I was meant | |
Obscene fertility in casual beauty | |
My blood spilled, my seeds spread | |
This is the natural way | |
I exist for you to evaluate | |
Shat out or systematically bred | |
Or carefully preserved but dead | |
" My God!" I hear your voice, " such an unusual specimen" | |
I am gutted, taxidermystuffed, mended, gutted again | |
I am supine, passive, silent | |
I' ve earned my place among men of science | |
My likeness described by poets and painters | |
The jewel of your collection | |
Such an unusual specimen | |
Gutted, stuffed, mended and gutted again | |
To those of independent taste | |
The height of fashion perfection! |