For now, the apple will fall from the tree to be embraced,
roll from under the covers and tiptoe down the hall, but
mothers don’t want what has already been disgraced.
They are the whispers in the night that must make haste,
the “hidden in halls” that spill their dreams where they strut.
Tonight, the apple will fall from the tree to be embraced,
there’s this buzz in the air as she is finally unlaced.
Desperate need at his fingertips as she is finally uncut.
Mothers don’t want what has already been disgraced.
This is not what she imagined, it does not have the right taste.
He rips open all the doors and she just wants everything to shut.
Surely, the apple will fall from the tree to be embraced.,
She sobs because all she wants is for her steps to be retraced.
Banging on the door gets her nothing but “fucking slut”,
mothers don’t want what has already been disgraced.
That’s it, isn’t it, forever she is wasted and defaced,
nothing can ever rid the curdling shame in her gut.
The apple will fall from the tree to be embraced,
and mothers don’t want what has already been disgraced.