You saw my flight in the hallway I saw your face on the stairs I tried to be your son I tried to be wholesome But nature has never been fair I was the man whom the trees loved Digging through dust for a book But now I've been caught for Rappaccini's daughter She's wiping the bait from the hook Mother, I'm texture I'm righting men wrecks her Mother, I'm born many brood Mother, I'm yawning I slide on your morning I chide and deride me your food I know that you won't understand this But listen, I'll try to explain With poor imitations And weak demonstrations Why my friends all smell the same The turkey-neck reeks in your kitchen Your children are bound to complain They sing in the toilet While you stand and boil it It's aural, it's nasal, it's pain Mother, I'm texture I'm righting men wrecks her Mother, I'm born many brood Mother, I'm yawning I slide on your morning I chide and deride me your food Now that I've spent all my sources The drooling, the moth-like are gone I'll find a new place For Lowly Worm shoelace If that is what pushes me on Mother, I'm texture I'm righting men wrecks her Mother, I'm born many brood Mother, I'm yawning I slide on your morning I chide and deride me your food