Oh Mother, Oh Mother
What's that at the door
What's come home to roost
Who's there, did they come to share
And did they think to bring, an extra chair
Mother, you did one fantastic piece of job
A wonderful tapestry piece, a great big work
Leaving dead and destruction wherever you went
A great big lake, to celebrate (lined in red, of the dead;
the ones left behind, no longer able to cry,
no longer able to sigh, or say goodbye)
Now doves, they don't cry no more
The tears don't fly no more
One thing still remains, despite the presence of deep-old pains
I still see the face of a dying page
Remember the hectic artificial race
The need to haste, to get first to the post
The one with the most, wins the prize
Gets home and gets to cry
No, I won't do
What you tell me to do (no matter what it might be)
I won't see your face, nor celebrate
The dying of an old page
I will no longer try
To pretend to die
To celebrate the lie
Twenty-three trials
and twenty-four miles
Have left no doubt
I turn about
And see
There's nothing left but Me
Waving soul
Travelling pole
I wish I knew what to do with that (it was on sale on ebay..)
🖤🖤🖤