My Manic Mother (Foster Child in a Glass Pane)

My Manic Mother Lyrics Verse Those Saturday mournings, I pushed my bed away from the wall, Trying not to wake the house Hoping my foster mama would not hear, Worried the old frame would wake my sister Give away my secret, tell of a foster child's dream to see her mother. If I could see her one more time search her Irish eyes that do not smile for any truth about my brown self How can I still love you, mother I still need you, mother Even after the giveaway, the living away The way irony played in your manic rage on a Berkeley street. Chorus Foster child in a glass pane Cried dry tears when she never came Pushed my bed back to the window frame Missed another in a long line of chances to be her daughter It was just another Saturday mourning An empty box on the calendar of my manic mother Verse Offering in my palm, my whole Black heart, But she, the daughter you never saw but needed no less The words still echo in my head Who wants this little girl? Wrist burns under drunken grip. The trick, my sister said, is to stand the pain. Twisting my wrist skin in a game of Indian Chief. When you can't stand no more, you lose. So you got to howl like an Indian, 'cause you lost. Child games flashing in my mind, But there is no time to be a child again And anymore But maybe, not forever. And there is no howl escaping my lips Chorus Foster child in a glass pane Cried dry tears when she never came Pushed my bed back to the window frame Missed another in a long line of chances to be her daughter It was just another Saturday mourning An empty box on the calendar of my manic mother Verse In pitch-perfect Karen, You ask curious commuters Who wants this little girl? From the auction block the center of the intersection I see helpful hippies fall off their high horses trying not to look But we are the trainwreck They cannot help but watch Only the train is screaming for me I want to be on that caboose and go away, When a lone pantheress, Smooth as velvet beneath my fingertip on the basement wall at Foster Home, Steps from her car, opens her heart I'll take her. I'll take your little girl. Chorus Foster child in a glass pane Cried dry tears when she never came Pushed my bed back to the window frame Missed another in a long line of chances to be her daughter It was just another Saturday mourning An empty box on the calendar of my manic mother Bridge Who wants this little girl? No howl escapes my lips as I am whisked away by the Black Pantheress Yeah, like the one in the poster Black cherry lipstick Afro with a fist pick smelling like coconut oil and Stay Sof-Fro. From the back window of her yellow Fleetwood Cadillac The fire of your red hair burns my eyes as you slip into a sea of people and traffic and your battle-dressed jacket Run-over rubber flip flops Poof, gone… Just like that. Saturday mournings, I loved the loving to see you, mother Cried dry tears when you did not show pushed my bed back to the window My sister and I played Indian chief Till pain was only a game and I could be a child again. Chorus Foster child in a glass pane Cried dry tears when she never came Pushed my bed back to the window frame Missed another in a long line of chances to be her daughter It was just another Saturday mourning An empty box on the calendar of my manic mother Outro Adlibs A black stain on the old brain Of her panicked father It was just another Saturday mourning An empty box on the calendar of my manic mother