The Slipped Disc daily comfort zone (199): Sing me a Weinberg

Those dark colours are extraordinarily suited to these times.

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  • Grief
    There was a grey cat, there was a warm house,
    Mummy and I lived together,
    it was nice for us then.
    But with the war misfortune came to our home.

    No more mummy, no house,
    no bread, what is this then?
    Mummy won’t come back now, she sleeps in her grave, she will not awake.

    Ash is all that remains of the house.
    The little cat wanders all alone,
    mummy, mummy, where are you, mummy!

    The snowstorm blows and the wind howls.
    No roof above me,
    I approach now and stand at the threshold,
    give me shelter, for God’s sake

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