|When will I see freedom from madness to haunt
hiding in a dream, crying floundering on a pillow
broken needles piercing, screaming to see her;
my mother praying for me to come home
that she may save me from being a groupie
with dark blurred eyes singing songs of dope;
the road to nowhere, cocaine and merry men
in a bed to share with all, a pipe to smoke
the bitter memories of being far from home.
No, this is not home with a mother to hold
to try and say I love you, when I cannot see
a veil in a vision white stretching out a hand,
to hold me with a loving touch in her arms
and hear her say! “Shoo, shoo my baby
now don’t you cry! I’m praying for you.”
My name’s Simone, disgraced, ashamed
seeing my father cry with me in his arms
lying on her grave, begging her for mercy;
there for forgiveness, free to live life at last.
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