Charlotte Martin - Mission to the Moon lyrics

Shattered in my mouth There are splinters in these words Thorns and roots and tangles I have spoken Spitting out my teeth Into a little silver cup I wake up cold With eyes wide open I remember climbing trees Vanishing behind the branches Cradled in the veil of make-believe Or else I was shooting fish In a shallow fish pond As they glistened in the sun It might be wrong It might be childhood Summer sheets And dampened footfalls Cotton clinging to my skin Kite strings And paper wings Missions to the moon It might be wrong It might be wrong It might be wrong It might be childhood