pick up your microphones

Yom Tov

Amy Lipman

My mother is proud
To have a daughter soaked in wine
Father only asks
That she remembers to swim
I walk before I crawl
We all should drop to our knees
Twice and once in a while
You make me fall
Then lift my voice at lowest points
All too naturally

Come to me
Stand by me
I swear that I will say goodbye
In case you ever have to leave