CryptorchildEach time I make my mother cry anAngel dies and falls from heavenWhen the boy is still a worm it's hard toLearn the number sevenBut when they get to youIt's the first thing that they doEach time I look outsideMy mother dies, I feel my back is changing shapeWhen the worm consumes the boy it's neverConsidered rapeWhen they get to youPrick your finger it is doneThe moon has now eclipsed the sunThe angel has spread its wingsThe time has come for bitter things