Five years late oh how I wish
To turn back time
To a simpler time
To think a French plat
Would be the only time
I ever turned my back on her
My mom was smiles and churning dough
And laying new shoes in a row
To think those shoes were what I used
To disappear
I forgot about her
She was waiting at home for me
She was five minutes late
To work near west
And I’m five years late
To her grave where she rest
-Bianca Gain