Open up a thick brown wooden door
To clean out everything that’s on the cutting room floor
I left not knowing what I believed in anymore
Spat out into a white washed corridor
That smothers all the truth in its walls
Like we’re just human after all
Not ashamed, not ashamed, that’s my mother
Even if there’s not much to recover
Not ashamed, not ashamed, that’s my mother
Even if there’s not much to recover
Take down every single photograph
Bury and recess as much of the past
But the upstairs light still shouts
Please come back
Not ashamed, not ashamed, that’s my mother
Even if there’s not much to recover
Not ashamed, not ashamed, that’s my mother
Even if there’s not much to recover
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