Who? Oh, it’s you. Float with me a little. Mmmmmmm. Nice womb of warmth under a bud of flesh. Floating around. A languid floating flower. Oh this stream of life. Round like a wheel. With spokes too. And life, it doubles up, it turns like a horseshoe. Never mind. You are too young to understand. Not like me. Float with me. In the stream of life we trace. Oh this womb of warmth is dearer thaaan them all.