I could tell a story, but I cannot wake my husband up from sleep I could have married others says the actress in a pornographic film
Oh mother o mother of mine I'm not saying this love is wrong, just that I need a ride And if you, o mother o mother of mine Have fallen in love with a man who imports cola, that would be fine
Though he has a good job I hope he has a friend among the polit-o-bureau His eyebrows grow together People in the office are bound to talk
And as the full moon comes And the have all gone [run?] off to die in peace And as the scent grows strong I hope you make it to the bank by 8 a.m.
Mother's plucking eybrows, seem to grow while she is fast asleep There are explanations That seem to matter less and less each passing day
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