There was a picture of my mother and me
Above the wall in my room
She crawls into my dreams and sings me to sleep
Leaving me at peace
Her face is a blur
And I imagine the other components of her
She inst a part of the world that I build
Where we can be together and sit
Talking about dreams and what’s important to me
She cant see what I see
A part of her face isn’t in the frame
So I lay down and wait
Hoping for another day
Where she hold my hand and say
That I’m the daughter she made
And she appreciate everything that I say
Even those foolish dreams that I create
But I look at her face and I can see a trace
Of a part of her that doesn’t care what I say