My mother is dying and I am crying,
well on the inside anyway.
She’s nearing seventy and I’m nearing fifty,
and I have no idea what to say.
I have not seen nor spoken with her in many years,
long ago I thought there could be no more tears,
But now she is dying and I think I am crying,
well on the inside anyway.
Before she died I flew up to say hi,
before she died I flew up to say bye.
But she never saw me, she wouldn’t see me.
She died with her husband, my father by her side,
she died with her daughters, my sisters by her side,
but she wouldn’t see me, she wouldn’t let me be near.
So she died and I never ever cried, well not on the outside anyway.
