And even when I hold my head high,
with the stars within my reach,
I hear the disappointment in your voice.
And even when I’ve escaped the mess in my mind,
leading a life with some idea of purpose,
I see the sadness in your eyes.
And even when I’ve stopped wishing for death,
with an aim to heal the wounds in my soul,
I sense the retaliation in your words.
But mum, even with over ten thousand miles between us,
and a short phone call once a month,
I catch the hope in your hello.