Pygmalion

I'm here to invent a new sin, the sin of loving you May the gods be with me The faint whispers behind the trees Are they of horror or of joy? Are they the shadows in your head? In your head Love is like an X-ray of a black hole Formidable, penetrating I see babies in gigantic cones They are moving like pawns Are they the shadows in your head? In your head They circulate the gardens They hang from the wires They are mathematical, metaphysical They are shaped like cylinders Gyrating at their own axis They produce terrors, soon sons and daughters --- Pygmalion - Årabrot