Burt and Elvis in the Red Room
My daughter's dancing in the next one
There's a poem in every turn
There's a baby in our bedroom
And he's crying like a small bird
I am praying he will sleep soon
Oh, am I not tired?
There's another world in this one
And it's spinning like my dancer
Something tells me that this is so
And I can feel the turning
Like every woman waiting
for the life inside of her
We cry, "Oh, are we not tired?
Are we not tired?"
Now the bathroom is a temple
For existential mothers
Crying when the words will come
It flows across the big world
They are knelt upon by big girls
Wondering if they've done enough
And they cry,
"Love, when are you coming?
Love, when are you coming?"
