Well versed I am in the taint of my birth,

my diminishing roll in this sphere

But sometimes I require a communique from the mother to make it clear.

Well England is pretty in the summer time,

Boys are beautiful until the age of nine

And certainly women begin to pine for usurping their laden fear

But after making love we hear nothing, Mother Greer

But after making love we hear nothing, Mother Greer



Tiptoe Tiptoe with me...



O no tiptoe of tiny feet mas sound

or tiny heartbeat pound in our ears

waking up with the sweats and the terrors

like some fifty-five year-old corporateer

Who after making love he hears nothing, Mother Greer

Yes, after making love we hear nothing, Mother Greer



Rise, rise, rise, and tune your Pianos,

i hear the wind whistle through their teeth,

you cheating sons from your deep, your dreamless, endless, arse-facing, walking, sleep...





Well versed I am in the taint of my birth,

my diminishing roll in this sphere

But sometimes I require a communique from the mother to make it clear.

Well England is pretty in the summer time,

Boys are beautiful until the age of nine

And certainly women begin to pine for usurping their laden fear



But after making love we hear nothing, Mother Greer

Yes after making love we hear nothing, Mother Greer



Why are there so many of you over there when you can't even get over here?

After making tracks we hear nothing, Mother Greer



Rise, rise, rise, and tune your pianos,

i hear the wind whistle through their teeth,

you cheating sons of deceit while I'm breaking melodies every time i breathe...

every time i breathe..