We hear nothing, Mother Greer
Who after making love
Boys are beautiful 'til the age of nine
From the mother to make it clear
We hear nothing, Mother Greer
But sometimes I require a communique
While I'm breaking melodies every time I breathe
Yes, after making love
When you can't even get over here?
Boys are beautiful 'til the age of nine
But sometimes I require a communique
Oh, no tiptoe of tiny feet make sound
Well versed I am in the taint of my birth
Or tiny heartbeat pound in our ears
But after making love
For usurping their laden fear
Certainly women begin to pine
We hear nothing, Mother Greer
You cheating sons of deceit
Yes, after making love
We hear nothing, Mother Greer
But after making love
From the mother to make it clear
For usurping their laden fear
Rise, rise, rise and tune your pianos
But after making love
He hears nothing, Mother Greer
Tiptoe, tiptoe with me
Yes, after making tracks we hear nothing, Mother Greer
I hear the wind whistle through their teeth
Like some fifty five year old corporateer
You cheating sons from your deep
And certainly women begin to pine
Waking up with the sweats and the terrors
We hear nothing, Mother Greer
And rise, rise, rise and tune your pianos
Well, England is pretty in the summer time
My diminishing roll in this sphere
I hear the wind whistle through their teeth
Oh, why are there so many of you over there
Well, England is pretty in the summer time
Your dreamless, endless, arse facing, walking, sleep
