Dorothy

Come down in a wind house

No sailor, no mast

No rope they would only have hung before

The disorder of the roof around my feet

Hole in my head for the Chinook

A nail pierces my skull

And all the pans are mangled

You could only make misshapen food

Don't cry, children

Mother's gone to heaven

Don't cry, children

Mother's gone to heaven

Don't cry, children

Mother's gone to heaven

Don't cry, children

Mother's gone to heaven

Don't cry, children

Mother's gone to heaven

Don't cry, children

Mother's gone to heaven

Don't cry, children

Mother's gone to heaven

Don't cry, children

Mother's gone to heaven