Mother Hips
Mother Hips
You used to be so beautiful
In your father's house on the hill
carrying your black bound book
beyond the world of thrill
we'd dream of blond-haired children
who'd run between my legs
you ordered me an omelet
but I was not eating eggs
you gave me 547 days
to try and find a start
of the railway line to heaven
where you arranged to send your heart
I used to put an X across
the days that you and I missed
but I burned my calendar and gone to sleep
and dreamed of your mother hips
the next time that I saw you
your hair had turned to brown
you yelled at me across the room
but you did not make a sound
you were standing with a widower
who lost his will to try
and was fooling all the drunken girls
who came to see him cry
Late at night through the candle light
I told you it wasn't just for kicks
you said, "what?" and we nestled down into your mother hips
Late at night through the candle light
I told you it wasn't just for kicks
you said, "what" and we nestled down into your mother hips
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