Carlon

Cook for me, you won't anymore
You would if I asked you to
On a heavy day the scents you make
Make sense out of what you do

Your pots and your pans and more what is still
On a dish we demote how we feel
What lead-lined for bellies taste, lonely days heavy
The nights are the wounds we reveal

Well, where will we go when the rains are wet
And the tables are set up to dry?
Well, where would we go when the neighbors have gone
No meals have been cooked, shall we cry?

Our shoulder's too small to lean on another
Our tears too big for our room
The son on the wall's no longer a brother
I'd (...)

Cook for me
You won't

Cook for me but don't leave me be
Your meal is good psychiatry
Turn that knob to 350
'cause we're expecting company

We're doing just fine, thank you very much
Doing just fine, thank you very little

Doing just fine
fine, fine, f-fine
redefine the word fine

Cook for me
You won't