My father died when I was young,
My mother told me to carry on,
For the track of life is rather long.
sometimes we ought to hear,
A bit of tragic song,
My mother brought me up and right..
so I became a bit upright,
To the comfort of this
Modern class..
so I appeared like a broken glass,
My mother taught me not to lie.
The world wished me bye bye..
For the world is a better place,
where telling a lie, adds to your grace,
My mother taught me not to
consecrate dirt,
Filled with filth that might hurt..
But the world taught me something more,
That dirt of mind is priced more..
I...