I always figured that I would grow old with a child in tow, maybe two or three
Did i simply outgrow that dream
Or did that lie outrun me? (Faster and faster)
So there’s no rattle, there’s no white dress
Certainly no gender reveal festivities
Am I sticking out like a sore thumb
As I throw up my finger up to what I’m supposed to be?
I swear if another single person tells me that a baby looks good on me
I’ll shave off my hair and I’ll burn all my clothes and I’ll set fire to my goddamn ovaries
Appreciate the sentiment, but this beeswax isn’t yours
Generation over each, there’s just more and different doors
If we turn a different latch, find a different match, sew another patch
Strike a little match, contract a little rash, never even tracking the scores
Back in the day you limited the ways that you distinguish
Acceptable from exceptional from dreary to downright sad
It was a formula, simply charted, we live in a mish mash
Seed stash, open-ended teeth gnash of paisley and plaid
I swear if another single person tells me that a baby looks good on me
I’ll shave off my hair and I’ll burn all my clothes and I’ll set fire to my goddamn ovaries
Ideas aren’t cast out, just viewed in a different light
Our sieves let through rainbows, yours blocks out old plights
Tap another keg, eat another leg, birth another Peg
Skin another tag, dog another wag, always we’re tracking new flights
It’s true it’s not all marshmallow fluff in a flute glass
Drinks served ignited while hurricanes rage past
Serve up another set, cats to the vet, live at the Met
Beam with ka-tet, no Boba Fett, still you may call me an outcast
I always figured that I would grow old with a man in tow, wed in my late ‘20s
Now I’ve outgrown that pre-written narrative
Or did that lie just outrun me? (Faster and faster)
So there’s no rattle, There’s no white picket fence,
Certainly no gender reveal festivities
Am i sticking out like a sore thumb
As i throw up my finger up to what I’m supposed to be?
I swear if another single person tells me that a baby looks so good on me
I’ll shave off my hair and I’ll burn all my clothes and I will set fire to my goddamn ovaries.
I will set fire to my goddamn ovaries.
The Woolly Mammoth Project is a rap-folk duo from the Ottawa Valley, traditional, unceded territory of the Algonquin nation.
Photo by Emi Bk- ww.emiliebesson.com
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