Nadia Two

Is it just this time, your mother comes, to beat a different cry, anyone can phone, say what they’ve done, but nothing catches her throat, a fertile ground of whines, no hint of being done, we count the chimes, she doesn't come alone, wants to have some fun, always brings some other drone, it’s you who wait in line, pleading c’mon mum, shaking like a vine, it nourishes her bones, to see our little drum, it disguises what she knows, everyday a fine, she won’t waste a crumb, says it’s a waste of time, asking for the tomb.