My mother thinks my life is sad.
“Too often you will seek control.
By doing this, you pay a toll.
The toll you owe’s too much to add.”
My mother thinks my life is sad.

She looks at me, so full of dole.
“In charge, you talk not to a soul.
You live your life as a nomad.”
My mother thinks my life is sad.

“Out of your tidy hidey hole,
you can slowly, solely stroll,
none to join you, make you glad.”
My mother thinks my life is sad.

I wish to say, “I love this role!
It’s great to live life with control!”
But she is right by several tads.
My mother thinks my life is sad.