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