The Cat's Pajamas

Who would of known?

To the lips of a failed writer

To crash a cup of wine

To throw a toast to an islan that's slowly sinking

I can almost hear you

Hear you crying

Momma you are killing yourself

Momma what can I do?

And I'll be the one putting pins into my fingertips

Only to erase the memories

And to laugh when I think what my father did

She sits

She waits

She toasts her prayers

Not speaks of them

Momma you are killing yourself

Momma what can I do?

She sits

She waits