| Mother, Mother
|
| I can’t take another
|
| Moment here the way that it is
|
| Heartache, heartache
|
| It’s a fear I can’t shake
|
| It heals and then it’s broken again
|
| The things I love seem to slip through my hands
|
| Like a big red balloon or a grain of sand
|
| But I see the future through the eyes of the past
|
| Still I somehow want to make this last
|
| They say the darkest hour
|
| Is just before a flower
|
| Opens to the light of the sun
|
| And you’re my reason
|
| My softly changing season
|
| Tell me I’m the only one
|
| The things I love seem to slip through my hands
|
| Like a big red balloon or a grain of sand
|
| But I see the future through the eyes of the past
|
| Still I somehow want to make this last
|
| Still I somehow want to make this last
|
| All my life I’ve been fooling myself
|
| Trying to make the wrong things right
|
| Like a birds against the cold hard wind
|
| Trying to find the end of the night
|
| The things I love seems to slip through my hands
|
| Like a big red balloon or a grain of sand
|
| But I see the future through the eyes of the past
|
| Still I somehow want to make this last
|
| Still I somehow want to make this last |