The noise in this joint is unearthly
And soon I awkwardly say:
"Look, there it is, my whole life in an ashtray".
I can go back to her that way.
Because in blue darkness of the night
She keeps imagining one thing:
Someone stuck his Finnish knife
Under my heart.
I know that even though she doesn't show it
She grieves sorely for her son
And often walks out to the road
In her old fashioned coat.
And in blue darkness of the night
She keeps imagining one thing
How someone stuck his Finnish knife
Under my heart.
In blue darkness of the night
She keeps imagining one thing:
Someone stuck his Finnish knife
Under my heart.
I know she definitely grieves sorely for me,
I know she's dirty and angry for me.
Welcome back, she forgive me so
Motherly, motherly, motherly.
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