Текст песни I'm a Mother, I'm a Writer (Linda Allen) с переводом

I sit here in the stillness, and my thoughts are all of you

And I wonder and I worry so, as mothers often do

Oh, dear ones, how I needed all these days to be alone

But comes the evening, here I am — reaching for the phone

And it seems that every pleasure has its cost

And what I try so hard to find is lost

Still I must seek these lonely times to fine a part of me

then I’ll be home, Your mama’s comin' home

Sometimes when I try to write, so much keeps crowdin' in

And my life’s a book with worn-out pages — scattered by the wind

I love you both so dearly, and I’ve never had regrets

But other voices beckon, I’m afraid that I’ll forget CHORUS

Sometimes the life I lead begins to tear my heart in two

And the rage comes spilling out and shadows everything we do

And it’s then I need you love, but I need most to be alone

To take some time — a glass of wine — then mama’s comin' home

CHORUS

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