FISHBONE
music ©by mafish, text ©by ralf moß

Sunday
2 P.M.
You are sitting at your table
Waiting for your lunch, hungry
A bird twitters on the gable
And you are wondering
Where she is
No noise you hear
Only the bird outside
And you start to fear

That something’s wrong with your meal
That something’s wrong and you feel

Your hunger
Something’s wrong and you throw
Your napkin on the table
Standing up
Start to

Shout

You have a look in the kitchen
No one’s there
But your eye is catching
A note from her:

"My dear
This is my last dish
For you, enjoy the fish
My dear
I leave you
I leave you"

You are sitting at your table
Waiting for your lunch, hungry
A bird twitters at the gable
And you are wondering, you’re wondering

She’s away
She is away
And you’re sittin’ there
With that bone in your throat
And she’s away

Sunday
2:15
You are sitting at your table
Hungry
Eating that fish she has cooked
Your eyes are wet
You’re staring at the food
No noise you hear
Only the bird outside
And you start to fear

There’s something’s wrong with your meal
Something’s wrong and you feel

Your hunger
Something’s wrong and you remember
The note on the table
Standing up
Knowing

That no more
She cooks for you
No more
Warm meal for you
No more she cooks for you
No more warm meal for you
Last dish for you

My dear...

She left you
And all she’s left to you
Is a fishbone

Rolf bearbeitet seinen Bass im BeBop 2001