Lyrics

I'm walking slowly Past Stalin's phallus Imagining how many fallen women I fell under the power of a word Past hotel brothel Through the Grim faces Stuck in harsh memory I dress inappropriately For the Spring snow Buds on the trees And walk through the ghosts of the past Making my own history Burnt rainbows Burnt rainbows Burnt rainbows Masculine city with Female Limbs, body parts cascading in all directions Empty buildings shouting My body it is mine Creamy skin beckoning Stalin's moustache To find humour in all dark dwellings And I sing My body my choice I demand Agency over my own body We are In a process of understanding We are In a process of understanding We are In a process of understanding We are In a process of understanding My body it is mine My body my choice My body my choice My body my choice My body my choice