This is what happens to childless women when they get old and their wombs turn to dust.
A song is in order to pay tribute to Sarah Silverman’s call for a military coup. Sing along, why don’t you!
Dust in the Womb
(first stanza courtesy of Twatter contributor @DrGarnicus)
I froze my eggs only for a moment, and the moment’s gone
All my queefs pass before my thighs, a curiosity
Dust in the womb, all my eggs are dust in the womb
Same old womb, just a drop of semen and dead ovaries
All you screw finds no fertile ground, except a wizard sleeve
Dust in the womb, all eggs gone to dust in the womb
Now, don’t bang on, cats cannot recover a womb left to die
Eggs slip away, and all your crying won’t a single child buy
Dust in the womb, all you are is dust in the womb (all you are is dust in the womb)
Dust in the womb (every skank has dust for a womb), infertility of the womb (dead womb)