In the garden where the moon don’t shine, Little heads peek from the twisted vine. Cabbages whisper what the stork won’t say, They bloom in the night and they’re taken away. No mother’s cry, no father’s name, Just the fairy’s laugh in the pouring rain. Crystal dust falls where the incubators glow, World’s Fair babies nobody’s supposed to know. Baby magic, sweet and cold, Little souls that were bought and sold. They call it a wonder, they call it a dream, But some of those cabbages ain’t what they seem. Hush now child, don’t make a sound, The bunnybees circle and prowl around. They sprinkle their sparkles over fresh turned earth, Every new blossom hides a stranger birth. See the glass boxes lit up so bright, Tiny chests rising under sterile light. They paid their coins just to stand and stare, At the miracles no one was meant to bear. Baby magic, sweet and cold, Little souls that were bought and sold. They call it a wonder, they call it a dream, But some of those cabbages ain’t what they seem… Now the vines are creeping through our nursery walls, And every new cradle hides a secret doll. The fairy still dances where the shadows play, Stealing tomorrow’s children today.
