and if I tell - who would believe?
There's nothing I can call my own
...not even the things I have achieved.
It's always better that way
All that is aching inside
It's better for it to stay -
covered up with hurt's pride.
All in good time
I will open the gate
of this little heart of mine
in a moment of fate.
For a soul that's been torn and
a heart controlled by other
there's not much you can do
But to hold me in your arms -
my dearest Mother.
