With stiffened back, dressed in black
|
Enters doctor pessimism, no one called him.
|
He sips his tea, demands his fee,
|
Offers not one word of comfort to those grieving.
|
|
Come home Momma
|
You know the old man is dying.
|
Brothers, sisters,
|
They stand around and they are crying.
|
|
He takes his hat, snaps it back
|
On the empty head old Lester
|
Thought might save him.
|
He snaps his purse, sends for the hearse,
|
Then he's off to dance beneath
|
Bright mirrored ceilings.
|
|
Come home Momma.
|
|
It's such a bitch, when the ditch
|
That they're digging is for your old man to lie in.
|
It grows so cold, when you're told
|
That old Lester's house is sold;
|
The mortgage closing.
|
|
Come home Momma.
|
|
-----------------
|
COME HOME MOMMA
|
Pretty Things |