We all have our secrets, don’t we?
Into the dark shall I go,
Following the bad smell I know,
It’s been there for a long long time,
Reminds me of all that is mine.
Down the stairs now I go,
To the bad smell that I know,
Under the stairs you camp,
In the basement dark and damp.
Now in back of the stairs I sit,
Returning to the sweet smell of it,
Like a fly in the ointment,
I was your one disappointment.
So in the back of the stairs we shall lie,
You, your bad smell, and I.
A child unlike no other,
And you, my dearest mother.
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