Every Sunday morning I hear her voice

Singing songs and making such noise

I rise up on my bed and my temper had hoist

For it’s still early, I could feel the morning moist.

Flared by the anger that I have

I want her to be torn to half

But I was stunned like a cowering calf

She’s powerful and the one I never apt.

I was ashamed and laid back to my bed

Her cursed voice turned sweet over my head

For it was my mother singing loudly

Had slapped me when I said, “Hey mother, you’re too noisy!”

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