Man the story behind this one- This song is always a punch in the gut to me. I had a really really fucked up childhood, if you want to call i tthat. This song so Totally sums it up though. This one is so much an inspiration for a poem I wrote not so long ago, the point to this song is yeah the little girl is abused whatever and only ever wants to do right but in the end she rises above it all. The poem I wrote (My Mother's Hands) is so much like that.
My mothers hands
were beautiful
I'll never forget how delicate they looked
I'll never forget how strong they shook
My mothers hands
trembling and terrible
I'll never forget how frightened I looked-
upon her beautiful hands
My mothers hands were gentle at infancy
dripping with the kerosene fuel of anger
robbed the beauty from her hands
in all of rages complacency
My mothers hands
once taught me art and compassion
I now am left to wonder
was every hit a crime of passion
My mothers hands
were time worn and elegant
scarred and rough-
still beautiful
I wished to have her hands when I grew up-
graceful and skilled
story weavers and time stoppers- artists hands
they were beautiful
I'll never forget the day they turned
from her hands to angers
what lesson was I ever to learn
as I grew to fear
My mothers hands
Sickness and time stole beauty
from her hands
her hands and our life-
I am grown now
so long since I saw those
beautiful dreadful hands
that I loved and feared
I remember her hands before anger
as I look now at my own
and I think
I have my mothers beautiful hands
but the anger and the fear- stopped with her.
©MCA2007
Alone...listless...breakfast table in an otherwise empty room
Young girl...violins...center of her own attention
The, mother reads aloud, child, tries to understand it
Tries to make her proud
The shades go down, its in her head
Painted room...cant deny theres something wrong...
Dont call me daughter, not fit to
The picture kept will remind me
Dont call me daughter, not fit to
The picture kept will remind me
Dont call me...
She holds the hand that holds her down
She will...rise above...ooh...oh...
Dont call me daughter, not fit to } the picture kept will remind me } (2x) dont call me
Daughter, not fit to be } the picture kept will remind me } dont call me...
The shades go down (2x) the shades go, go, go...
