Mothers
Hold Your Own Hand
Betrayed with every movement
Cold fingers not forgotten
The things we touched with them
Loved

I burned up all my songs
And left them out
For the dogs
I think I could learn to love

Almost close enough
To taste her bite
Almost close enough
But not quite

Keep those little hands
Right there in your pockets
Keep those little hands
I can't say that I want them

I can't say I believe them