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My psychic wonât return my call.
My magic 8 ball reads hazy.
All of my friends have gone crazy;
madcap advice became banal.
My hearts a wild cannonball- what can I follow?
My dreams are bouncing off the wall,
my head is hollow.
So, still, I wallow
with all the vagabond logic
which calls it home until tomorrow.
Mama knows best but sheâs all the way in the kitchen.
I canât remember: what does Mama always say?
I never listen.
I never listen.
I flipped a coin,
I rolled the dice,
I rock, paper, scissors- tied.
My cards are conflicting,
Iâve drawn far too many times.
Canât cipher the picture in the crystal, still, I scry...
And if I decide, Iâve lied.
Time rewinds my mind.
Mama knows best but sheâs all the way in the kitchen.
I canât remember: what does Mama always say?
I never listen.
I never listen.
My horoscope is vague,
the Ouijia wouldnât sway
till someone persuaded.
It evaded, âyouâll find the wayâ.
If I erase to meditate,
the roads all flow to elevate...
That angel on my shoulder lays my devil, never sober
Theyâve never told a soul,
though flagrant their flirtatious glares.
So what to put inside my prayers?
Now Iâm scared I donât care.
Mama knows best but sheâs all the way in the kitchen.
I canât remember: what does Mama always say?
Mmm, what does mama always say?
Mama knows best but sheâs all the way in the kitchen.
I canât remember: what does Mama always say?
I never listen.
I never listen.