The Fetus

The crime on my fingertips
İs pulling my hair
Take out of me this tree inside
These thorns pricking my bosom

This chilly wind is you
The body rotting under ground
İts your ash scattering on me
Dead roses viewing trough my window


Hang on me inside, don’t fall down

My soul is splitting
It’s turbid water l’m drinking
And the darkness words l’m speaking
A seed coming to live in my womb

Hang on me inside, don’t drop

The candles l’ve lighted for you
All the blood you’ve shedded
For Abraham’s head
The stories have been told
And the history hasn’t been told
Waiting for doomsday

You god! You prophet!
The scepter of Moses split my sea
And you are so many pieces of glass
pricking my skin

And why zoroaster’s prayer's
not been accepted