Mother Greer

Well versed I am in the taint of my birth, My diminishing role in this sphere But sometimes I require a communique from the mother to make it clear. Well England is pretty in the summer time, Boys are beautiful until the age of nine And certainly women begin to pine for usurping their laden fear But after making love we hear nothing, Mother Greer But after making love we hear nothing, Mother Greer Tiptoe Tiptoe with me... O no tiptoe of tiny feet make sound Or tiny heartbeat pound in our ears Waking up with the sweats and the terrors Like some fifty-five year-old corporateer Who after making love he hears nothing, Mother Greer Yes, after making love we hear nothing, Mother Greer Rise, rise, rise, and tune your Pianos, I hear the wind whistle through their teeth, You cheating sons from your deep, your dreamless, endless, arse-facing, walking, sleep... Well versed I am in the taint of my birth, My diminishing roll in this sphere But sometimes I require a communique from the mother to make it clear. Well England is pretty in the summer time, Boys are beautiful until the age of nine And certainly women begin to pine for usurping their laden fear But after making love we hear nothing, Mother Greer Yes after making love we hear nothing, Mother Greer Why are there so many of you over there when you can't even get over here? After making tracks we hear nothing, Mother Greer Rise, rise, rise, and tune your pianos, I hear the wind whistle through their teeth, You cheating sons of deceit while I'm breaking melodies every time I breathe... Every time I breathe.. --- Mother Greer - Augie March