Oh sure there’s the baby shower
But after that there just the waiting
Well, and the nursery decorating
And the putting things in order
And the bag for the sudden flight
And all the fears for the future
And all the perhapses of the past
And all the pushing pushing push
And the breathe I know it hurts

When all you need to decorate
Is fresh straw and a star window
Your hospital births lambs
Your ass is still tired from traveling
And room-service only offers
Gold, frankincense and myrrh
And maybe some ice chips
And a carpenter’s nursing hands
It gives new meaning to ‘birth pangs’

When there is no in in the room
Everything is out of doors and sorts
There’s no such thing as a silent night
With angels singing loudly overhead
About peace on earth someplace
And shepherds knocking at all hours
And wise men who ought to know better
Dropping by with worthless gifts
You want to say some unholy things

All babies come from God above
But they all make you feel like hell
During that last long-lasting forever
400 years of eventually excised story
That seems like the no time at all and
Eternity that a moment lost feels
During the contracting of time
It takes to make something timeless
And birth a new kind of joyful pain

And all those silly baby shower gifts
Waiting with you to come in handy
Suddenly make some sense somehow
Gold because even the life’s got to live
Maybe not quite like a king, but still
Frankincense because shoo-wee!
Myrrh since we die a little each day
As our birth pangs continue until
All things have been born again