My Mother’s Womb

[Verse 1]
There's a conversation not happening and a lack of real debate
There's a sickening sound of silence around half past very late
And the oak tree waves goodbye to every leaf that it may shed
And there's so few things to do now my Mother's dead

Controversy's taken holiday, outspoken's gone to sleep
For different views on every news, you just won't hear a peep
Ah, just what current climate needs like a massive hole in hеad
And there's so much less to do now my Mothеr's dead

[Chorus]
So take my passport in your hand, but never you presume
Cause I'm not British, I'm not English, I'm from my Mother's womb
The following words I cry to thee, engrave them on my tomb
Fuck being British, fuck being English; I'm from my Mother's womb, boom, boom, boom

[Verse 2]
Maybe it's a family trait, maybe just being Scouse
She's loud as Heathrow Airport but quiet as a Baptist mouse
Now the last pair of prettiest eyes have rolled back into head
Nothing much to do around here now my Mother's dead

And any hope we held for future has to be our kids
Half as funny, hopefully; as brazen, God forbids
Ah, wind your neck in, compromise, take safer route instead
Not a chance of that now that my Mother's dead

[Chorus]
So take my passport in your hand, but never you presume
Cause I'm not British, I'm not English, I'm from my Mother's womb
The following words I cry to thee, engrave them on my tomb
Fuck being British, fuck being English; I'm from my Mother's womb, boom, boom, boom

[Bridge]
That's what I thought when life support machine, it got turned off
And opposing corner celebrates last bell
She's either giving dear Diablo proper ticking off
Or the angels up there in Heaven, hell

[Outro]
So take my passport in your hand
But never you presume
Cause I'm not British, I'm not English
I'm from my Mother's womb