Hear me today, the wind in my hair,
            seems to take flight like birds on the air.
            Down to the river, down to the shore,
            can you ever make me a little bit more.  

A mother is sometimes straight out of time,
all my life was I was cast like dice,
like Rodin’s Thinker was blast by bombs,
cruelly engulfed by whiskey’s sweet balm.  

I kiss them goodnight as they slumber away,
kiss them goodnight while they sleep in the hay
of Little Boy Blue and I love you too,
I couldn’t hold on, I couldn’t stay.  

            Hear me today the wind in my hair,
            seems to take flight like birds on the air.
            Down to the river, down to the shore,
            can you ever make me a little bit more.

And goodbye to all the kisses I blew,
goodbye to Boy Scouts and Little Boy Blue.
The trouble that grabbed me hard by the throat
was the bottle that killed me drowning my hope.  

Think for a minute that I can’t come back,
think for a minute that my children are fast
held in the arms of their mother dear
and crying I’ll never know more than fear.  

            Hear me today the wind in my hair,
            seems to take flight like birds on the air.
            Down to the river, down to the shore,
            can you ever make me a little bit more.