Deep inside are woman's hills about to come up
To see the sky
To see the sun and moon
And the tiny stars in the black of a man's hand

Sometimes in the morning
I'll look across myself
See hills and valleys forming
Think of rivers underground.

Outside me
I am blooming
Inside I am dry

If only I could understand
The reason for my crying
If only I could stop this fear
Of dreaming that I'm dying.