Mother

(álbum: Blind Melon - 1992)

The skies have darkened
And the seas have dried
Your honest ways have turned to lies
Your hands of promise
Turned to hands of pain
You take for granted the life that God create
The life that God created
The frost and flowers
Mother gave to you
The muffled whispers bleeding true
And it doesn't matter how
What kind of eyes your looking through
Do you see our mother's dying?
Here's a picture for you
I wanna paint this picture for you!

With every black choking for breath
And every inch closer to death
Her hands are held out for you

You said the reasons
We're in the cities that we all made
Was that we rage our poor mother
Poor mother
Poor mother
Now that she's leaving
And she's thrown off all that she gave
We dig the grave
Of our poor mother!
The grass ain't growing
In my front yard, no
Poor mother
Poor mother
Poor mother