Out of every day on the calendar pages
There’s only one with feelings of hurt and rages
Only one I’d like to make go away
Nothing else like that Sunday in May

We are supposed to celebrate your maternal lore
Just buying you that card has become a chore
I don’t know what to get you when all you want is more
What more do you want, you emotional whore

You sold me out to keep your latest find
Does he know the pain you bring when you change your mind
Mother or lover – you never want to make up your mind
Whatever is convenient at the time

Yet you tell me I can’t be around my son
What makes you the teacher or the one
To dictate the rules, or say who has won
The affections of my only one

I have only one fear in the future you see
That one day he grows up and thinks all this about
Me.



 
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