Nestled in her Mother's womb,
she's beginning to run out of room;
She ***** her thumb without a clue,
of what is coming very soon.
To a clinic tomorrow, her Mommy will go, where she will be, ****** through a hose;
This child did not have a choice,
this child did not have a voice.
The day arrives when she will die,
the Doctor has at last arrived;
It's not too late to change her mind,
and on the wall, the clock chimes nine.
A hose is inserted,
inside the womb,
it will all be over very soon;
The child winches away in pain,
her suffering is her Mother's gain.
Each piece of this child,
is ****** right out,
no one can hear her cries and shouts;
The tears in her blue eyes can't be seen,
thanks to the horror,
of that ******* machine.