Mama

Well, I promise

there's no truth

in that lovely, wooden home

you spent your youth.

I promise

that I won't leave

before you dress my arms

back up in sleeves,

Mama, oh Mama.

Where's the trust in running?

Baby cool your head, I'm coming.

I've hunted

down my past,

held it close to the earth.

I made it last.

But now

solace still keeps my head,

just knowing all that's said, and done

is simply dead,

Father, oh Father.

My thoughts they all come drumming.

Telling me to just keep humming,

Mama, oh Mama.

Where's the trust in running?

Baby cool your head, I'm coming