Sometimes I scold her, shrug and disappear
Sometimes I yell that I'm all grown up.
I ignore her wise wits, and roll on a worldly spree.
She knows nothing, she's old, I'll mostly excuse.
Don't do that! Watch your ways! Hark the wise!
Blah blah blah blah blah Blah
I stuck my fingers in my ears, I play dead deaf.
In the end, I falter and come back frowning
I'll wipe a tear and whisper a meek sorry
Knowing it's too late for me.
I'll feel I'm alone in the world and wish I had listened.
When everything's gone sore and my hope flailed
She'll walk over to me and pat my back
You couldn't have done better than that
She will say
Its too soon to quit my son, lets pick up the pieces
Patch the feathers together and fly like never before.
Now, who wouldn't be proud of such a mother?
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