In my childhood the trees were green
And there was plenty to be seen
My father made the walls resound
He wore his collar the wrong way round
My mother wore a yellow dress
Gently, gently, gentleness
When I was five the black dreams came
Nothing after was quite the same
The dark was talking to the dad
The lamp was dark beside my bed
When I awoke they did not care
Nobody, nobody, was there
When my silent terror cried
Nobody, nobody, replied
I go up; the chilly sun
Saw me walk away alone

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