Behold, I emerge from my slumber,
ready for the fluttering touch of another.
Who shall dance to the death with me?
Who shall fall in their peak to the voyeuristic sea,
and tuck themselves in 'neath the slobbering tongues
of the little fishies starving for the tastes of the young
that I gave my life to create.
They'll never get a chance to appreciate
all that I've sacrificed for the cause.
The world carries on, no grief and no pause.
All in a day's work, no thanks for the mother
who lives just to die for the meeting of another.