The word in everyone's lips, even on the ones that never had anyone to call it that.
The word is in everyone's lips...

One of the most excruciating
of all of this worlds sounds
are the unanswered voice
of a calling wounded son,
saying again and again
mother...mother...come!

Heard in orphanages when
all the lights are switched off
and the head is on the pillow
muffing from the child that call;
no adoption will be tomorrow,
no new mother, no tender love.

Heard in every no-man's land
of every forgotten little war,
when only the ghost of mamma
roaming on the barber wires was;
calling soldiers, that were dying,
screaming loudly the last of hope.

Heard in my head so many times
when the going kept getting tough,
face with tears wanting to run free
and nobody there to dry them off,
I couldn't expected anyone there
because, rabuchairudo, I was not.