Lo Carmen - Every Mother's Son

Oh I know it's funny
You'd think I'd be the sentimental type
You'd think I'd stay up all the long night
But it's foolish to start
And headaches come cheap
I'm lost in reveries
You think you're saying something
But it's nothing to me
Two fifty records in colour sleeves
Now you're talkin'
You're talkin'
You're talking' to me

Oh kid, get a haircut
And get home to bed
You're thinking you're saying something
But it's long gone and said

Easy on the wind Joe
It's just trying' to get through
You start out so small
But if people just knew
Everyone's an expert
But nobody knows
It's been a long time
Since I looked down the road

Oh and the March fly
It does blow
Everybody wants one
But nobody runs'
Not even when the big one comes

And every mother's son
Makes their own fun
Every mother's son
Is gonna make their own fun
Every mother's son
Is gonna make their own fun

Written by:
Loene Carmen

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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