Baby, I am your baby.
My tongue utters stanzas that befuddle you, my baby.
I am your baby — my hands create a muddle in your dreams,
Dreams that never come true.

Gobs of doves shout that you never loved me from the start.
Yet what could they do?
Now, I am yours — your baby — grappling with reality
And your dreams that will never come true.
I'm your baby. Say it, baby.
Then we'll be unified.

I am your baby. The sun defies me.
So I create a moon from the light I gather in the depths of your eyes.
And then the sun is distracted by the beauty of the moon in the sky.
She forgets me — an entity that belongs to you.
Now, take me. Own me.

A utopian chimera, written by God himself —
I stole it and forced it to become true.
As I become your baby,
I burn down your dreams, rotting in the abyss.
So replace your dreams with me.
Let only my dreams exist.

I'm your baby. Own me — even as my impure saliva stains your bedsheets.
You realize, when you touch it, when you feel it —
Nausea. You run to the sink,
Throwing up everything you ate, including me.
Remember — I am your baby.

I am your baby, intertwine our fingers when we go over a trestle above the abyss.
I knew you would long for your old dreams that would never come true.
Now I be your dreams — the ones you will cherish, as I am your baby.