My pumping chambers never skip
So far never lit or slit
Our beats now interfere
And together they walk quietly
Marching red fills thick
My kick sends from out the core
The count is yours and you are mine
For you weren't there before
These words at birth, a pulse that ticks
When it contracts she screams this lull
Two circulations, separate fit
Out of phase it has begun
The first to which the mother sings
Emits a curious rooting, proud as guns
Rewarding gift to shift her gain
Resorting who's the loudest one
Your blood will hit when the body splits
And spits its purest beauty out at once
The heart will lift and swift her pain
Will morph into the full false silence of you