Twelve Wooden Boxes

Some time late in the nineties

You would’ve found her

Out back on a lounger

Tying the flowers

For our little faces

To sell them onto strangers

And one way or another

You still tie the flowers

For our little faces

Oh mother

I guess that never changes

Counting our dollars

Into the wee hours

Twelve wooden boxes burned

Down to a penny

With so many memories

So I dwell upon weathers.

However the seasons

That tied them together

Oh mother

Their stages and reason

They escape me forever.

If I’m forever scared, I’ll be forever mute

Like a fish on land

Who never told a soul

Fed into an ever growing bowl of windfall

It’s always just a moment

Then another

It’s always just a moment

Then another

We tripped on a man

Dare I say a kid

Both of them david

Grew into that island pit

As we turn the pages then

As I drew my first wages

The same way you’ve always done

You took him on

Made him one of our own

And one way or another

You still tie the flowers

For our little faces

Oh mother

I guess that never changes

It’s always just a moment

Then another