Failed every period Did baroque badly Afraid of blood Dream was too lonely I chose keeping it together In these IKEA white walls Of my post-war Nordic silence But only desire is real I must find some kind of art form Where I can call my tongue back from the underground (Back from the underground) Back from the underground There are multitudes There are multitudes In the doctor's office my speculum pulls me open Spacing the space Accidental sci-fi Regulating my aperture, vagine savant Some people find it painful But all I feel is connected All I feel is connected There must be some kind of art form Where I can call my blood There are multitudes There are multitudes There are multitudes Don't be afraid It's only blood