• Mother, dear mother, would you speak to me,
    of the passing of the clouds and the frothing of the sea,
    Of the rise of the mountains and its valleys steep,
    Of the endless sky and the oceans deep?
    Please, do not speak of the end we all must face,
    Of how mankind has fallen so very far from grace
    And destroyed all he has ever really loved,
    Tossed aside the world with naught but a shrug.
    Comfort me, mother, soothe me so.
    If you feed me lies, I will never have to know.